


Undoing Dichotomy

by flute25



Series: Divergences [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Moral Dilemmas, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, slaves of the republic/escape from kadavo, some violence (canon-level), writing is cheaper than therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-08-23 13:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 34,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8329027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flute25/pseuds/flute25
Summary: "There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in a storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man."
A 'what if' from the Zygerrian Clone Wars arc, starting from "Slaves of the Republic". Obi-wan takes matters into his own hands at the slave auction on Zygerria.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been lurking on fanfiction sites for a very. long. time. 
> 
> Recent life events have brought me back to fanfiction and Star Wars, in particular. Watching the Clone Wars got me on the Obi-wan hype train. I decided to ball up and finally write something, mostly as a distraction from my previous, exceedingly stressful job. 
> 
> This has not been beta'ed. There's a long arc that I'd like to explore beyond this story. We'll see. This is speculative fiction, so take it as you will. I'm just having some fun. Know that I enjoy exploring the darker sides of "good" or "pure" characters - it will come into play in later chapters. Tags will be updated accordingly.
> 
> Usual disclaimers. God bless the anonymity of the internet.

“Prove to me that you are a slaver,” the lithe woman purred, circling the man now known as Lars Quell. “Teach the Jedi his place.”

Queen Miraj Scintel leaned her body into Quell’s back, one hand on his shoulder, the other draping seductively around his chest, offering him the hilt of a weapon. 

_This mission is already bantha poodoo,_ the man thought.

Anakin Skywalker looked down at the electro-whip in the Zygerrian Queen’s hand. Lars Quell might have seen the weapon merely as a necessary implement for his work. Anakin Skywalker saw something else. In the space of a few seconds, flashbacks of a life on Tatooine rushed through his mind - long days of relentless work in Watto’s shop, filled with machines that never stopped needing repair. The cries of children nearby, wailing for comfort in the unforgiving camps. His mother, strapped to a wooden tripod, bleeding, _dying_ , having been subjected to various forms of punishment by the Sandpeople. Revenge. The smell of cauterized flesh in the desert. The blinding fire of his anger...

His fist clenched.

_“Anakin,”_ a voice in the back of his mind chided, interrupting his dark thoughts. _“You must have control. Release your anger. The lives of the Togrutan colonists depend on this.”_ He briefly marveled at the fact that his conscience was speaking to him in a familiar, clipped Coruscanti accent. 

Unfortunately, the owner of that same voice was now being paraded in front of a mass of blood-thirsty, no-good, slave-buying _sleemos_. Of which he was now supposedly one, _if_ he was able to convince the Queen of his intentions. _There’s a lot more I will convince her of..._

Anakin quickly calculated the time it would take to walk down to the arena floor from his current position on the palace balcony, confident that he would be able to come up with a plan between now and then. _/Keep sharp, Snips./_ He sent the message through his bond with his Padawan, who at the moment was somewhat poorly playing the part of a cowed slave. _The sooner this mission is over, the better._

He grabbed the electro-whip from the Queen’s hand with a bit more force than necessary. “I will teach him a lesson in obedience.” _And I will teach this entire race a lesson they should have learned long ago._ Anakin Skywalker made his way down to the arena floor. 

The voices of the thousands of slave-buyers and spectators filled the ampitheater, nearly deafening in their chants of “Whip the Jedi! Whip the Jedi!” Anakin could _feel_ the malevolence in the Force whipping around him, like a Tatooine sandstorm. As he approached the platform in the middle of the grounds, his breath caught. 

_Oh, Master...please tell me this is part of a plan._ If Obi-wan was acting, he was certainly doing a good job. His tan robes were torn and dirty, streaked with disturbing rust-colored stains. The Jedi Master’s face was grimy with sweat and dirt, strained with whatever was causing him to hunch over slightly, holding his ribs. Anakin wasn’t sure which possibility was worse - that this was a deliberate ploy by his Master, or that the Zygerrians had truly inflicted this degree of punishment on Obi-wan. 

He decided it didn’t matter right now. 

As the disguised Knight ascended the stairs to the raised dais, the guards shoved Kenobi to his knees, raising his arms behind his head before giving way to the edges of the platform. _Good, at least we’ll be able to have a conversation_.

“Looks like I have to rescue you again, old man,” he said, trying to preserve some semblance of their usual levity in what was becoming an increasingly serious situation.

“ _Anakin...”_ Obi-wan’s voice was disturbingly hoarse. Anakin winced. _Okaaaay, maybe not a ploy._

He fiddled with his gloves to stall for time, speaking with a low urgency. “Master, I’ve hidden our lightsabers with Artoo. All I need to do is give the signal and we can lay waste to this place.” Somewhere deep inside him he knew that he shouldn’t feel so much glee at that prospect, but this was not the time nor place to consider that too deeply.

Anakin saw Obi-wan’s shoulders sag in what he imagined was a sigh, a movement he was all too familiar with. The maelstrom of the crowd reached a fevered pitch - they wanted a whipped Jedi or a dead Jedi, and were getting neither. 

Obi-wan turned his head ever so slightly, allowing Anakin to see his Master’s eyes. _Force, he looks terrible._ _Definitely not a ploy, then._

“Anakin, you _must_ do it.”

_Oh come on, Obi-wan! What do you take me for?_

“I can’t, Master,” his voice straining. And there was the anger that he was constantly fighting. Anger at the Zygerrians. Anger at Obi-wan for not taking _action._ Anger at the _kriffing_ Jedi Council...

“Anakin, this is larger than the both of us.” Obi-wan’s voice was stern. “The Togrutan colonists’ lives are hanging in the balance, and you will expose yourself, Rex, _and_ your Padawan if you do not keep up this...” Obi-wan seemed to run out of steam for a moment, “...ruse. You must convince these beings that you mean it. One simple Jedi Master is not worth the lives of so many.”

_One simple Jedi Master?_ Anakin’s temper rose. _I would destroy this arena first._ His body was vibrating with emotion, the electro-whip in his hand ignited without thought. He vaguely processed the voice of the Zygerrian Queen threatening him if he did not act as the four guards at the corners began to advance towards him, weapons raised. 

_You want me to act? I’ll show you action, you karking Schutta._ There was no peace, no serenity, no harmony in his mind. He only knew that the Zygerrians must _pay._ Anakin Skywalker, former slave of Tatooine, readied himself for a retribution that he long craved.

He raised his arm to give the signal to Artoo - _time to blow this joint_ \- when he was rammed in the abdomen, temporarily knocking the breath out of him. 

He lashed out with the whip in his hand.

_You can’t even attack me from the front? COWARDS!_

He sensed another onslaught. This time, Anakin was ready, and caught his assailant with the whip before they could even get near him. He dimly observed a body fly back, and the roaring of the crowd, but the overwhelming angry buzz in his mind clouded all else except for defense and revenge. 

He knew he had the upper hand now. Anakin struck the man again with the whip - and with the adrenaline of battle evening off he could see it was a man. _Where were the other guards? Did they run?_ Some part of his mind was screaming at him that this was a _mistake_ , that this was _wrong_ , but years of combat and war overrode that instinct. _Eliminate your enemy._

He had to be sure. Once more, he flicked his weapon. The man screamed. 

_Oh no. Nonononono._

Time stood still, the air itself seeming to stop short in his lungs. 

_Force, what have I done?_

The arena thundered in approval. Anakin Skywalker stood stock-still in the middle of the Zygerrian amphitheater, electro-whip still lit in his hand, the perfect image of Lars Quell,  _slaver_. At his feet lay the prone form of Obi-wan Kenobi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huttese (warning foul language):
> 
> bantha poodoo: bantha shit  
> sleemo: slimeball  
> karking schutta: fucking bitch
> 
> Chapter 2 preview: We get Obi-wan's point of view.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, thanks for the kudos and comments! If you have a specific question, I will be happy to attempt an answer.
> 
> There won't be too much plot advancement this chapter, but our lovely Obi-wan will drop a few tidbits of backstory here and there while we get his side of the story.

Obi-wan Kenobi squinted at the high sun as the Zygerrian guards led him into the arena. After spending half a day in the subterranean dungeons of the slavers, the intense light was a shock to his eyes. The cynical part of his mind reflected that he did not seem to do well on planets with an affinity for the public spectacle of its prisoners. Geonosis had hardly been better than this situation.

_At least Dooku isn’t here this time_ , he thought wryly.

“Move it, Jedi scum,” the guard growled as he pushed Kenobi towards the raised stage. The amphitheater filled with jeers and shouting. 

Obi-wan's plan to find the Togrutans had failed horribly in the slave pits - Governor Roshti was once again captured, they had no further clue as to the location of the missing colonists, and he had lost all means of communication with Anakin. There was also the small matter of the rather unpleasant interrogation he had suffered at the hands of Atai Molec after his own capture. _At least Rex had escaped..._  It had been a less than successful day, to say the least.

_There is no emotion, there is only peace._ The nearest guard prodded him forward with a blunt jab to his vulnerable midsection. _Peace and broken ribs, that is_ , wincing inwardly at the aggravation of the worst of his injuries. _Focus, Kenobi._

With what concentration he could muster, Obi-wan evened his breathing and calmed the small fires burning at the edges of his mind, taking stock of his situation. He was on display in a Zygerrian arena, surrounded by Zygerrian guards, and was wearing yet another - he shifted his neck uncomfortably - _Force-forsaken_ collar _._

Right then, the slave auction.  _I thought these had been banned years ago._

As he staggered up the stairs to the raised dais, Obi-wan tried to shield himself from the beating sun with his arm, only to earn a jab at his tender abdomen, causing him to double-over in pain. The filled arena rang with the shouts of its occupants **,**  mixing together in a cacophony of vitriol that was inducing an unwelcome vertigo. A chant broke out in the stands, “Whip the Jedi! Whip the Jedi!” 

_Not good_.

His mind strayed to his former Padawan. _Stay safe, Anakin. Stick to the plan. Don’t do anything rash_. Obi-wan had a sneaking suspicion that something more than just his injuries was hindering his full connection to the Force. The Zygerrians held a long grudge against the Jedi for the destruction of their previous empire, and he would not have been surprised to learn that they had at least attempted to acquire a form of Force suppressor over the years. How they might have been able to afford it, given the state of the Zygerrian economy, was a whole different question.

_ Well, if I'm here to spur on activity in their market, I do hope they don’t undersell me. A Jedi slave should be worth *something*. _ He would have laughed if he didn't believe it would earn him another unwanted smack to his midsection.

Obi-wan’s focus suddenly shifted. _Someone’s coming._

A male was approaching from the perimeter of the grounds, his features obscured by the shadows cast by ornamental pillars near the entranceway. Something glinted in the sunlight - Obi-wan glimpsed the reflection of the metal hilt of an electro-whip in the man's hand. The stranger walked in a manner both imperious and impatient, at once confident but also slightly hesitant.  _Zygerrians don’t apologize for their brutality._ The Jedi Master’s stomach dropped as he contemplated the ramifications of this information. _I have a bad feeling about this._

Obi-wan was pushed onto his knees by the guards, his hands raised behind his head. He swallowed his rising ire at the Zygerrians and instead focused on the new arrival. The Force, even in its muted form, whirled around him, a mixture of aggression, fear, and sadness. Obi-wan didn’t need to turn around to know who it was, or what he was sent to do.

_So it comes to this. Whip the Jedi, indeed._

He heard his former Padawan’s voice behind him, “Looks like I have to rescue you again, old man.” 

“ _Anakin...”_ Obi-wan felt the name catch in his throat, rough from dehydration. _This is really not the time for banter._

He heard Anakin fiddling with something behind him, voice low, but urgent. “Master, I’ve hidden our lightsabers with Artoo. All I need to do is give the signal and we can lay waste to this place.”

Obi-wan sighed to himself, releasing his emotions, _again_ , and then turned his head as much as he dared to in order to catch the eyes of his former Padawan. 

“Anakin, you _must_ do it.”

_For once, Anakin, follow orders. Please._

“I can’t, Master,” came Anakin’s strained reply.

_Of course._ Obi-wan looked up to the sky for patience. “Anakin, this is larger than the both of us. The Togrutan colonists’ lives are hanging in the balance, and you will expose yourself, Rex, _and_ your Padawan if you do not keep up this...” Obi-wan searched for the correct word to describe the tatters of their plan, “...ruse. You must convince these beings that you mean it. One simple Jedi Master is not worth the lives of so many.” _If we succeed, it will be worth it to stop this travesty. I would be whipped a hundred times over if it means the freedom of these Togrutans and an end to these atrocious acts_ , he thought a bit too bitterly.

If Anakin did not act soon, the Queen would make the decision for him. They held no chance of winning in a direct confrontation with the Zygerrians with the four of them alone - at least not right now. Logic dictated that they preserve their cover as best as possible, and use Anakin’s proximity to the Queen to locate the Togrutans. If things went extraordinarily well, they might also expose the Separatist involvement in the slave trade, which might legitimize Republic interference in Zygerria. It all hinged on Anakin keeping his cover.

Obi-wan could sense the rising anger in his former Padawan. _He just needs a little provocation._ The guards were closing in from the corners, and Anakin had stiffened in anticipation of a confrontation, igniting the electro-whip in his hand. The Force, muted as it was, continued to whirl around the man who was supposed to be Lars Quell. This was usually the point when Obi-wan would reach out to Anakin over their bond, to gently bring him back into the present. This time, however, he did not act.

The Jedi Master knew his friend was prone to hyperfocus, something that was both an asset and a liability for the young Jedi. With his emotions nearly palpable, Obi-wan was certain that Anakin was not processing much beyond a simple rubric of  _Anakin_ and  _not-Anakin-enemy_. And if the _not-Anakin-enemy_ attacked, then he would defend himself until the threat had passed. All Obi-wan needed to do was sublimate the part of his Force presence that was not already suppressed - Anakin's combat instincts would take care of the rest.

Thoughts raced through Obi-wan's mind.  _He will be acting in self-defense - this is part of the mission - I...I cannot be attached, nor can he._  It was all a flimsy justification for what he was about to do, and he knew it. _This isn't right._  But there was no more time for debate. He closed his eyes briefly and released one final thought into the Force.

_I’m so sorry, Anakin._

Obi-wan Kenobi rushed forward, burying his shoulder deep into Anakin Skywalker’s abdomen. 

The next thing he knew was the all-too familiar whip across his chest. _Gods, that is even worse from the front than the back._ The arena roared in approval. 

Obi-wan rolled over onto his knees, heaving, sensing Anakin’s blinding anger, as intense as the Zygerrian sun. He righted himself, and made another pass at the younger Jedi.

He made it only a few steps when the whip came down again. 

Obi-wan fell to all fours, certain that this time he was not going to be getting up. His body was shaking from the adrenaline of newly administered pain and his head throbbed in tandem with his accelerated heartbeat.  _Please forgive me, Anakin_. 

Once more, he felt the bite of the weapon on his back, depleting him of his last reserves of strength as his vision flickered. 

_Who was screaming?_

And with that thought, he fell into the dark embrace of unconsciousness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to parse the political entanglements between the Zygerrians and the Separatists has been interesting. I'm combining elements from both the cartoon and comic versions of this story arc (at least what Wookiepedia tells me for the comic), plus a few other changes as they prove convenient for plot purposes. 
> 
> Chapter 3 preview: Time to move our story along. Ahsoka has a talk with her Master, Anakin decides to undertake some extreme redecorating in the Zygerrian palace, and Rex really wishes he could just take off this stupid helmet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you for the kudos and comments! 
> 
> Author confession:
> 
> I spoke with forked tongue in my previous chapter preview. Anakin and Ahsoka wanted to talk longer than I had planned, so Rex will be pushed to the next update. (He'll get his own chapter, though, and that should be posted rather soon.)

Despite the fact that she was still a Padawan, Ahsoka Tano rarely, if ever, found herself at a complete loss. The events of the slave auction, however, had brought her closer to that point than she cared to be. 

_You don’t know all the information. Plan “Besh” wasn’t activated. That might have been Plan “Cresh.” There’s probably an explanation. I hope._

The Togrutan Jedi Padawan took a deep breath. 

“Slave!” called the Zygerrian queen, interrupting her thoughts.

Ahsoka adopted the most docile tone she could muster, painting on a harmless, if strained, smile. “Yes, my Lady?” 

_I am going to take out a piece of your hide once we figure out where my people are._ Ahsoka cast her eyes downward, hoping to hide her thoughts and doing her best to look the cowed slave. Submission was not a natural trait for the young Togrutan. 

“Fetch me a drink and then attend to Quell.” Scintel smiled, “He has proven himself well today.” The Queen settled on a plush, red divan in front of a large window overlooking the now empty arena. 

Ahsoka’s training kept her from physically recoiling at the statement. “Yes, my Lady.” 

She didn’t trust herself to respond in a manner any more complicated. Not after the “brigand” debacle earlier in the day. The fact that she still had her cover mostly intact was a miracle of the Force. _Sorry about that, Skyguy._

Wordlessly, Ahsoka presented the lounging monarch her libation, idly wondering just how much politicians drank. Every time she was sent on a diplomatic mission, someone had a glass in their hand. 

_How do they get anything done?_

The Queen dismissed her with a disinterested wave of her hand. Ahsoka exited the room, meeting a line of Zygerrians waiting outside the doors. She tried to ignore them, but the young Jedi could feel their appraising gazes, their eyes all over her, with the Force. Physical labor was not the only form of slavery, especially for young females like herself. Ahsoka had been mostly shielded from that aspect of the war, but she was not so naive to be unaware of the practice. 

A particularly explicit comment on the anatomy of the Togrutan race caused Ahsoka to dig her nails into the back of her hand. _Must not react, must not react._ She distracted herself with thoughts of feeding each and every one of the Zygerrians to a band of hungry gundarks, piece by piece. _Master Yoda would be proud of my control - I think. Maybe not the gundark part._

Halfway down the hall, Ahsoka realized that she didn’t know where Lars Quell’s quarters were, so anxious was she to be past the gauntlet of leering Zygerrians outside the Queen’s chambers. In an instant, however, she knew that she didn’t need directions. Undulations in the Force - _guilt...anger...fear..._ \- poured down the corridor. Any Force-sensitive in the palace would be able to locate her Master. _I hope Skyguy and I are the only Force-sensitives here._

As she approached the door, the waves only intensified. Ahsoka knocked, and waited. There was no answer, just the oscillations in the Force. 

She pushed the door open, finding her Master sitting on a luxurious four-poster bed, adorned with maroon sheets and black translucent curtains hanging from the perimeter, pulled back with velvet ropes of the same color. The effect would have been striking, if Anakin Skywalker hadn’t been sitting with his head in his hands.

“Skyguy?...” she asked tentatively, closing the door behind her. 

Anakin leapt up from his seat and strode over to the young Padawan, covering her mouth with his hand in one gesture. Ahsoka took the hint, uncertain of what was going on, but willing to follow her Master’s lead. 

_/Master? What’s going on?/_ She sent her question through their bond.

_/I need to know how you’re being tracked./_ The reply was curt.

She merely gave a mental nod to acknowledge the information. _Need to know *how* and not *if*?_ Ahsoka suppressed a shiver.

She stood still, allowing her teacher to survey her. Skyguy looked... _intense._ Like he might explode. _Or implode._

His eyes fell first on her neck, where she had been fitted with the collar that all the slaves wore. Anakin’s Force presence trembled, but he made no outward reaction, instead continuing his evaluation through the Force. The Jedi Knight focused on her right wrist, which had recently been outfitted with a seemingly harmless silver bracelet when the Queen had “accepted” her as Lars Quell’s gift.

_/Give me a minute, Snips./_ Anakin sent to her. 

Her Master closed his eyes, the ebb and flow of emotion she had felt since being in his proximity finally abating as he focused his powers. He reached out with the Force, investigating both the collar and the bracelet. 

He brought his hand down and opened his eyes. “You weren’t fitted with a detonator chip,” he said absently, his tone betraying nothing of the emotions she could feel renewing through their bond. “Most slaves are.” 

_Well, they can’t blow me up._ “That’s good, right?” she asked carefully.

“There’s a geolocator on your wrist," he continued, ignoring her question, "but no surveillance capability beyond that. The collar is a standard issue shock collar, so try not to get into too much trouble.” There was no emotion in the usually animated face of Anakin Skywalker. It unnerved Ahsoka to see her Master looking so...blank. 

_What’s with him?_ “Okay. They can track my location, but they can’t record what I say or do. They can also deliver an electric shock but they can’t blow me up into pieces. It’s a start.”

Ahsoka looked over to her Master. He had sat back down on the bed again, staring at nothing in particular. The Force continued to waver around him. He finally looked up at her. “Why are you here?” 

_Um, because we need to make a plan to rescue my people and Master Obi-wan? And I need to make sure you’re okay._

“The Queen sent me here. She...” Ahsoka wasn’t sure why she was suddenly nervous. “...she said you had done well today, and that I should attend to you.” 

Her Master hadn’t moved an inch, hadn’t made any kind of gesture. His Force presence, however, was no longer a series of sickening waves, but rather a storming sea, much like the planet Kamino. The tempest swirled around Anakin Skywalker, and the air itself seemed to tremble in anticipation.

_CRACK!_

A glass vase sitting on a sidetable next to the bed fractured, leaving a trail of water dripping off the sides onto the expensive rug below it. 

_CRACK!_

The companion piece on the other side shattered, spraying water outwards onto the furniture. 

Ahsoka heard an ominous creaking of wood. 

_He’s going to rip this room piece to piece._

“Master! Please stop!” she implored. 

She could both hear and sense the stress on the structure of the bed, the wood groaning from the invisible weight. Ahsoka walked over to Anakin Skywalker, lightly placing her hand on his forearm.

“Master, please...” she whispered.

The Force reached a fevered pitch - and then...nothing. 

Ahsoka breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Master? Skyguy?”

Anakin had not moved an inch. And then all at once, the tensioned drain out of him, his body curling in on itself.

“This isn’t right,” he croaked. 

Ahsoka gingerly sat down next to her Master, leaving her hand on his forearm.

“What was the Council thinking, sending us here as slavers!” his voice rising at the end of the exclamation. 

Ahsoka didn’t have a good answer. _Honestly, Skyguy, I’m wondering the same thing._ She thought there _must_ have been a better way. But what? Most of the Council was engaged on the battlefront, and she already had heard Master Obi-wan having a long and uncharacteristically loud argument with Master Windu about the situation on their trip from Kiros to Zygerria.  _Not that I had been eavesdropping or anything..._ If that hadn't changed the situation, she wasn't sure what could.

Still, there had to be _something_ the Council could do for them. 

“Can’t we just contact the Temple and have them bring in reinforcements?”

Anakin tensed for a moment, and Ahsoka was afraid he’d go back to destroying the lavish bedroom. Instead, he raised his head and gave her a piercing look.

“I...tried, Ahsoka. I told the Queen I needed to contact some business associates to inform them of my extended stay here. Artoo helped me get an encrypted connection to the nearest Republic ship. I caught Master Plo’s signal near Felucia.” Anakin gave her a meaningful look. “I explained the situation - “ Anakin’s mechanical fist curled, “but he said there was some kind of political situation back on Coruscant, and the Jedi can’t officially be involved in the Kiros investigation without some form of proof that the Zygerrians are holding the Togrutans. I had to cut off the transmission before I could get any other information.” The young Jedi’s voice had lowered into a growl, frustration evident in his body.

Ahsoka was shocked. _What political situation could possibly stop the Senate from wanting to halt the slave trade?_

“Can you contact Master Plo again?” she asked.

Anakin shook his head. “Not right away - I was lucky enough to get that transmission through undetected.” Ahsoka gave him a confused look. “The Queen trusts me, but not that much. They’re monitoring my communications. The surveillance technology is old - really old, actually. I can bypass it - but it takes time and I need Artoo to do it. I’m also being tracked by at least two Zygerrians - well, one now.” The first hint of a smile played on Anakin Skywalker’s face. 

Ahsoka sighed. So they were stuck on Zygerria, undercover as a slave and slave master until further notice. _Great._ “What’s the plan, Master?”

The subtle smile that had lit Anakin’s face disappeared. “What should we do? We should wipe them out, Ahsoka! No more slavery, no more cowering in front of these _scum!_ I can _make_ the Queen give me the information about the colonists’ location. We don’t have to wait for the Republic or the Council to act,” he spat. The Force reached a fevered pitch again, and the bed frame began to once more shake unnaturally. 

Ahsoka’s eyes widened. There was part of her that wanted exactly what her Master did. It would be so easy, to just reach out and extract the information they needed through force...

_No. Not like this, Skyguy. We’ll stop these bastards, with or without the Council’s support._ But her Master was already treading so close to something dangerous, and Ahsoka was afraid of what would happen if that invisible line was crossed. Afraid she had already seen what would happen. 

Again, the storm that had surrounded her Master calmed. She felt ill.The back-and-forth of his emotions were too much. _Decide on one, Master - please._

Anakin sat still, throwing an apologetic look her way. Ahsoka could feel him actively trying to center himself.

“There’s something larger going on here, Ahsoka, I can feel it in the Force. This isn’t just about the Togrutan colonists.”

Ahsoka could feel it as well. They knew the Separatists had been involved with the situation on Kiros, but had no way of knowing to what extent. While it seemed obvious that they were collaborating on the slave trade, there was no _proof._ For now, they needed to figure out a way forward.

Anakin sighed. “We need intel. If I get close enough to the Queen, I’m hoping she’ll eventually tell me the location of the colonists.” He turned to her. “Gather as much information as you can from the others. Gossip gets around fast with slaves, trust me. You’re being tracked, so don’t look for me unless it’s an emergency. I’ll find a way to get us to communicate.”

“What about Artoo and Rex?” She didn’t ask about Master Obi-wan. _Not yet._

“Artoo is hiding in a secure location in the palace. There aren’t too many droids around here and his presence would just compromise our position. As for Rex, I can’t risk contacting him right now, but he’s here, I can feel it.”

She took a deep breath.

“And Master Obi-wan?”

The shift in the Force was violent. _So much for deciding on an emotion._

Both of Anakin’s fists clenched.

“Master...what happened? Was - was that part of a plan?” Ahsoka had desperately hoped that what she witnessed had been something Skyguy and Master Obi-wan had discussed, even if was just a brief acknowledgement through the Force. The alternative was... _disturbing_.

The silence lingered. She thought he wouldn’t answer her, or worse. Ahsoka was ready to give up on the question when she heard her Master quietly answer, “I don’t know, Ahsoka.” 

She wasn’t sure if she’d ever heard him sound so defeated. 

“He...he asked me to do it. Begged me, practically.” Anakin’s voice rose, defensive, “Of course I said no!” 

Ahsoka didn’t say anything, but sent him a gentle reassurance through the Force.

“Then...it’s all kind of a blur. I was ready to use our plan, the one you, I, and Rex had discussed on the ship. The guards were closing in and then...someone attacked me. I thought it was the Zygerrians.”

Ahoska’s eyes widened. _But it wasn’t the Zygerrians, it was Master Obi-wan - she had seen him run forward into Skyguy. What was he thinking?_

“I...I was so angry, Snips. I just...I saw them all. The slaves, the children, the Sandpeople.” His voice broke, “My moth-” He stopped himself short, eyes widening. This was something Ahsoka wasn’t supposed to know, something he did not want to share, something that was _hidden_ in darkness. Master Obi-wan had briefly told her about her Master’s past, but there was so much she didn’t know, and now she thought that maybe didn’t want to know. At least not right now.

He quickly changed the subject. “I should have felt his presence, Snips. But even on the dais, I could barely make out his Force signature.” Anakin ran his hand through his hair. “I’m guessing that they used some kind of Force suppressor on him, but I’m not sure.”

_Master Obi-wan did it on purpose, didn’t he? He knew what would happen, he knew Skyguy’s plan would blow our covers. But.._ she looked over at her Master. _Was this right?_ She didn’t know. The clear lines of morality the Jedi taught were become more and more frayed each day the war dragged on. _Skyguy was so angry. Obi-wan should have stopped that._ But she also knew the situation on Zygerria was bad. The slavery needed to end. Her people needed to be rescued. _But what will we become in order to succeed in this mission?_

They needed to finish this and get back to Coruscant. 

_I wish Rex was here._ Having a non-Jedi to talk to was refreshing, and she knew he would have an invaluable insight into the situation - or would at least be pragmatic enough to get the ball rolling on a plan. 

“You should get going, Snips. Tell the Queen I’ll be in my quarters resting until dinner.” She turned to leave when her Master stood and grabbed her elbow. “Ahsoka - stay safe. And...” Anakin swallowed, “Whatever you might see me do - I’m not that person. I’m...I’m not going to let them win.” He seemed to compose himself again, “Look for my signal. I’ll try and get you to come into my quarters as often as I can without arousing suspicion. Remember, we, and especially _you_ , are being watched all the time.” He let go of her arm with a meaningful look. _/May the Force be with you./_

_/And you, Master./_ Ahsoka answered as she left the room. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After watching his Padawan leave, Anakin sat back down on the bed. 

_Kriffing Sith hells._

Anakin tightened his mechanical fist. They’d had worse odds than this in battle, why were they playing this game with these Force-forsaken _slavers?_

_If we only knew where the colonists were._

The problem was, he couldn’t sense them on-planet. Which meant they could be anywhere. And killing the Zygerrians wouldn’t get him any closer to that truth. Yet.

Anakin's thoughts strayed back to the slave auction. He couldn’t quite remember the entire confrontation in the arena. It was a blur, a blur of anger and fear, of combat instinct all rolled into one. He couldn't sense Obi-wan's presence on the dais. He thought he was just another Zygerrian. Anakin knew he hadn't wanted to do... _that_ to his Master. His friend. His brother. 

Except part of him had. The part that still, however unwarranted, blamed Obi-wan for the death of his mother. The part that still harbored anger at the rejection he felt after being taken as a Padawan, despite knowing that Obi-wan himself was deep in grief at the time. The part that worried that Obi-wan would choose the Code and the Council, again and again, over their relationship. _And hadn’t he proven that by asking, nearly begging, for the beating he had been given? All for the sake of "the mission"?_

Anakin quickly stood up and began pacing the room. 

_Damn the entire Jedi Council!_

The Jedi Knight could feel himself edging towards another destructive impulse. Anakin took in a large breath and contained his urge to demolish the room in front of him.

He expelled his breath, counting to ten.

_I need to find the location of the Togrutan colonists._  


He inhaled again, this time elongating his count to twelve.

_I need to rescue Obi-wan._

An idea occurred to him, and his breathing returned to normal. 

_I need to contact Padmé._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations from Galactic Standard (warning foul language):
> 
> Kriffing Sith hells: fucking hell  
> Plan "Besh"/Plan "Cresh": Plan B/Plan C (using Aurebesh letters in place of English)
> 
> \---
> 
> I included Ahsoka's observation about politicians boozing it up because it really amused me just how often dignitaries and their ilk would be holding and drinking from obvious martini glasses in the Clone Wars episodes. (Mandalore alone had some pretty well-stocked liquor cabinets, if you look closely). And they call it a kid's show...
> 
> Chapter 4 preview: We finally catch up with Rex and that blasted helmet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing stories is far more fun than cover letters. Enough said.
> 
> Chapter 4! 
> 
> Honestly, I'm not as comfortable "inhabiting" Rex as a character, so this was a bit of a challenge, but it needed to be done. All part of the learning process, though!

It was hot. 

He would never complain about adverse conditions - he was a soldier, designed to adapt to all situations, no matter how extreme. From a military perspective, however, the Zygerrian guard helmet was one of the worst-designed pieces of equipment he had come across in his time in the Clone army. The helmets were too heavy to be practical _(they used metal and not synth-material)_ , too tall _(an easy shot, even for clankers)_ , and muted a large percentage outside sounds _(a disaster waiting to happen in a war zone)._ Not to mention the heat. 

Still, the Zygerrians were no slouches in combat, as he had seen in the slave pits with General Kenobi. They fought with a brutal efficiency and were skilled enough with a blaster to bring a man down with a single shot. This species was not to be underestimated. 

_Left, right, left, right._ He followed the line of elite guards ahead of him, falling into the familiar pace of a soldier’s march. 

The Zygerrian palace was a study in contrast - lavish pieces of art decorated the sparse, stone walls. Expensive furniture lined the corridor next to cages holding living creatures bound for servitude. The palace itself was huge, on a similar scale to the Jedi Temple in Coruscant, looming over the city settlements surrounding it. The building’s placement at the high point of the terrain was not the most subtle statement, but the Zygerrians made little pretense of hiding their authority.

As the soldiers continued their march through the palace, descending set after set of stairs, Rex took the opportunity to contemplate his next move. He was now playing the part of an elite Zygerrian guard member, and was under strict orders from General Kenobi to stay undercover at all costs. In the General's words, it was "essential that the mission remained a covert operation."

At the same time, however, he was under stricter orders from General Skywalker that Plan “Besh” be put into operation at his signal, no questions asked.

Skywalker had pulled Commander Tano and Rex aside on the shuttle to Zygerria to present his plan, which essentially amounted to “take them all out on my signal” - a contingency in case things got shot to hell during the mission. When Rex had asked why General Kenobi wasn’t present for the meeting, Skywalker had only responded that “Obi-wan catches on quickly,” which was code for “I’m not supposed to be doing this.” And of course, things had gone straight to hell during the mission.

Rex assumed that General Skywalker’s treatment of General Kenobi was part of some third plan, one that Kenobi had most likely cooked up. He didn’t understand it, and it bothered him, especially after the recent events on Umbara. _Brothers should not be turned against brothers._ But there was plenty about the Jedi that he didn’t comprehend, and Generals Kenobi and Skywalker were the best of the lot, so he would just have to trust them. Plus,he knew that General Kenobi could be a masochistic _atin verd._

_THWACK!_

Rex heard a scream. The helmet muffled the sounds of both the electro-whip and the wailing, but not enough that Rex - whose ears were exceptional, even by Clone standards - couldn’t place the voice as that of a female Twi’lek.  _Must be easier to dole out punishment if you can’t hear them screaming._ Rex clenched his teeth and willed himself to walk forward, not breaking the rhythm of the formation while listening to the sobbing behind him. 

Off-worlders, Rex learned, were rarely brought into the palace if they were not already in chains or a collar.

They descended into the lower levels of the palace, entering a large common room, the formation of guards relaxing from a line into a more casual conglomeration. A handful of scantily-clad males and females were lounging in a corner, while slaves of various species came around with bowed heads, offering drinks and food. Sensing an opportunity, Rex quietly slipped into an adjacent hallway, hiding himself behind an outcropping in the wall.He checked the length of the corridor, scanning it for any holorecording devices - _looks clear_. When he felt certain that he was alone, he slipped of his helmet and activated the comm on his forearm, speaking as far under his breath as he could.

“General? General Skywalker? Can you read me?” 

There was no answer. 

_Haar'chak._

Voices were carrying in from the next room, where the off-duty guards were gathered. To Rex, it sounded like the usual sounds of soldiers - some conversation, laughing, raucous jokes - until he heard the now too-familiar shriek of the electro-whip. New and unwelcome cries now emanated from the room, echoing down the hallway, and Rex nearly missed the approaching footsteps that stopped just short of where he was hidden.

“Is it true what Atai Molec said - that was really a Jedi?” Rex heard the heavy, accented speech of the Zygerrian. 

“Yes, Molec knew him from a transmission that came from our new shipment.” _That must have been from when the General fought that Zygerrian on Kiros. Blast it!_

Rex heard a grunt. “The Queen let that _off-worlder_ punish him, not one of our own, as should be our right! And now she keeps both the Jedi and this "Lars Quell," as pets. This is dangerous, D’ret. We should kill them both!” 

“Patience, Anar. The Jedi has been sent with the shipment to the reprocessing facility. He will not cause trouble on this planet.” Rex heard the first Zygerrian scoff.

“She thinks to tame the Jedi?” 

“ _She_ cannot tame anyone, my friend, but Arguss will. Let him rot there or die there - I do not care. As for the off-worlder, Molec has informed me that he is taking care of the situation.” The Zygerrian’s voice lowered. “The hour grows near, my friend. The Queen would have us bow to this Separatist army in hopes of building _her_ empire - her hubris will be her undoing. Zygerria will rise again from the ashes of _both_ sides of this war. For now, Anar, we must remain patient.”

Rex could hear the smile in the Zygerrian’s voice. “As you say, my friend.”

The conversation faded as the two Zygerrians walked back into the common room of the guards.

_Well, well, well - wasn’t that an interesting conversation._

Rex _really_ needed to contact the General. He tried his comm again, to no avail.

_If the General is here, then I’ll just have to find him_. 

Rex glanced down at the helmet that he had removed. He would have denied to the death the sigh he let out as he donned the headpiece. Not that any _vod_  would have asked to begin with.

_Kriffing Zygerrians._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations from Mando'a (warning foul language):
> 
> atin verd: stubborn soldier  
> Haar'chak: Damnit  
> vod: brother
> 
> Chapter 5 preview: We'll see how Obi-wan is faring. (hint: not so well). Bonus - I get to bust out my favorite Kenobi snark line of the story so far.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, this chapter was a MONSTER. Obi-wan thinks waaaaay too much. I had to bust out the jungle knives to edit this down to size, and it's *still* pretty unwieldy. 
> 
> Again, thank you for all comments and kudos!

~

_They were still on Kiros, only a day after Obi-wan’s confrontation with Darts D’nar._

_The Council had hoped to receive the support of the Republic government in the Zygerrian investigation, seeing as Dooku and the Separatist Army seemed to have tangential involvement in the disappearance of the colonists. Obi-wan was skeptical, however, that the Chancellor would accede to the Council’s request. Zygerria was technically a neutral planet, near the Outer Rim with little strategic or commerce value, and there were far more pressing battles being fought in the war._

_Still, so many things didn’t line up. Why would Dooku be working with the Zygerrians? What did the Separatists stand to gain from this? Obi-wan pinched the bridge of his nose with his hand - this mission kept getting more and more complicated._

_His transmitter sounded - it was Bail Organa._

_“Hello, Bail. How are you doing?”_

_The holoimage of the Senator flickered. “I’ve been better, Obi-wan.”_

_The Jedi Master didn’t doubt it. “I imagine you’re contacting me because you have information regarding the Kiros situation?”_

_“Yes, although I don't think you're going to like it.”_

_The Jedi nodded. There was very little he had seen in the past few days that he liked._

_“You haven’t been keeping up with the Holonet, have you?”_

_Obi-wan couldn't contain a cynical laugh. “No, I’m afraid I’ve been rather preoccupied lately.”_

_He received a grim smile in response.“Yes, well - unfortunately, the Jedi have been in the news lately, and not for their heroics. Somehow a few news agencies got wind of the missing colonists, and there’s been speculation from anonymous sources that the Jedi themselves are behind the disappearance of the Togrutans.”_

_Obi-wan’s eyebrows shot up. “And what exactly would the Jedi want with a group of peaceful Togrutan artisans? Perhaps the interior decorating of the Temple needs some updating?”_

_Bail sighed. “The issue isn’t whether or not it’s a plausible scenario, Obi-wan, it’s that public sentiment is not on your side. It’s a smear campaign, but it’s working. And you know how the Senate is right now.”_

_The Jedi Master could only roll his eyes at that statement. “Yes, far be it from them to actually use their minds to filter half the rubbish that masquerades as news on the Holonet.” Another thought came to him. “Who is behind this smear campaign, anyway? The mission to Kiros was not public knowledge. Only the Council and the Chancellor knew about it.”_

_“I don’t know. And rubbish or not, the Jedi have to be careful with this situation. It’s not just the rumors flying around about the colonists.” Organa lowered his voice. “Certain factions of the Republic are suspected of having dealings with the Zygerrians in the past. We have no real proof, but there’s been an ongoing investigation into species trafficking that could implicate a few politicians in the Senate. They would prefer that Zygerria be left alone.”_

_“Do you mean to tell me there’s a black market slave trade that the Zygerrians have been running?”_

_“What I mean is that you will need very, very good evidence for the Senate to authorize Republic interference in Zygerria.”_

~

One week in the processing facility, and he had lost track of the number of Kiros colonists that had been beaten - _or worse_ \- because of him. _What is the point of this mission if they are all dead before we can act?_

Obi-wan stretched out as far as he could in his sleeping pod, having given up on the idea of rest long ago. The clamorous percussion of the work site echoed from the chamber next door, occasionally interrupted by the tell-tale pitch of an electro-whip. 

_What fantastic sounds to not fall asleep to._

The Jedi Master sighed, mulling over his situation for what felt like the hundredth time since his arrival. He had no means of contacting Anakin, Rex, or Ahsoka. He was still under the influence of the mild Force suppressor, which kept him from accessing the bond he and Anakin shared.

_Even if I could contact Anakin, I still don’t know *where* I am._

A small, grey sphere came to hover in front of him. _Ah yes, the eyes of the Zygerrians._ In any other circumstance, he would have given the surveillance droid a jaunty wave, but in this case, he merely ignored it. The Jedi disinterestedly watched the machine fly away.

Obi-wan had been observing the droids since his arrival at the facility. At first, they seemed to have no discernible pattern, but he knew that was impossible - all droids worked on _some_ kind of algorithm. After a week of covertly studying the intrusive little orbs, he had managed to mostly map out their surveillance patterns. It was only the first step of a larger plan, but the Jedi allowed himself to feel the smallest bit of satisfaction.  _Perhaps the Force isn't as distant as I thought after all._

Exhaustion crept in, the consequence of a week's worth of restless nights. The Jedi closed his eyes, promising himself that he would only take a short rest. _There are still so many details to figure out._  He fell into a deep sleep almost immediately.   

~

_“Get up, Jedi scum.” a rough voice ordered._

_Obi-wan tried to open his eyes._

_“Wha- What?” He felt the cool touch of metal beneath him, dimly registering the familiar smell of sterilized air. “Where am I?”_

_The answer came in a swift kick to his abdomen. Pain radiated from his ribs, and he gasped for breath._

_*Oh yes, how could I possibly have forgotten?*_

_Obi-wan was sprawled on the floor of a shuttle, three Zygerrian guards looming over his prone form._

_There was another swift jab at his solar plexus. The Jedi's arms instinctually covered his midsection. He bit back a curse, rolling over onto his hands and knees. Pain and vertigo overcame him and the Jedi Master vomited on the floor._

_*How uncivilized.*_

_The guards paid no mind, losing little time in hauling the Jedi to his feet. Obi-wan swayed, supporting himself with one hand on the ship’s wall. The Zygerrians prodded him in the back with the barrels of their blasters, urging him forward. He did his best to ignore the waves of discomfort still emanating from his abdomen, distracting himself with a litany of insults that he had learned in his Padawan years from Quinlan Vos._

_He was brought off the ship onto the landing platform where the remaining colonists were. The Togrutans were lined up in front of an entrance to what resembled some kind of extraction facility. The structure was embedded in a massive caldera, suspended over the opening by a series of cables and supports ranging from the facility itself to the walls of the large depression. The landing platform was unremarkable save for the hexagonal shapes embedded onto the surface. Although Obi-wan couldn’t see over the edge, his intuition told him that the base of the crater surrounding it was quite far below._

_He noticed a rather severe-looking Zygerrian in a hoverchair at the entrance to the facility. He held the hilt of an electro-whip in his hand, and his gaze bored into Obi-wan as he advanced directly towards the Jedi. He came to rest an arm’s length away, looking down at his captive with a malevolent grin._

_“So, you are the great Obi-wan Kenobi. Hero of the Clone Wars.”_

_Obi-wan heard the snickers of the guards near him._

_“We Zygerrians have not yet had the honor of hosting one of your kind at our facilities.” He spread his arms in a decidedly disingenuous greeting. “I am Arguss, master of this facility and your...host on this planet. I do hope that you find yourself pleased with our accommodations.” He gestured behind him to the large doors._

_“The Jedi are famed across the galaxy for their strength and perseverance.” The Zygerrian’s voice gained a dangerous edge. “But even a Jedi can be brought to their knees. I will take a great pleasure in breaking you myself, *Master* Kenobi.”_

_Obi-wan stared defiantly back at the leering Zygerrian, straightening his posture as much as he could. He called the Jedi Code to mind, wrapping himself in its comforting familiarity._

_*There is no passion, there is only serenity.*_

_“You are a formidable enemy, Jedi. Because of this,” the Zygerrian leaned back, “we have taken certain - how would you say - precautions to ensure your compliance.” He gave Obi-wan a wicked smile, pushing a button on the arm of his chair._

_The strange hexagonal shapes of the landing platform suddenly gave way underneath the Togrutans unlucky enough to be standing on them. Obi-wan could only watch in horror as the colonists dropped through the platform, their screams echoing in the vast expanse of the crater._

_A chill passed through the Jedi Master._

_The Zygerrian turned his gaze back on Obi-wan, eyeing him with perverse delight. “You see, Master Kenobi, we need not resort to such crude tactics as the punishment you received in the arena to ensure your compliance. I am sure you desire to keep these good creatures...safe.” He sneered, greedily drinking in the Jedi Master’s combined outrage and sorrow. “You will not be the one to suffer for disobedience.” Arguss pointed the hilt of his weapon towards the remaining Togrutans, who flinched. “*They* will.”_  

~

A series of metallic clangs violently wrenched the Jedi into the present.

“Nap time is over! On your feet, slaves!” 

Obi-wan immediately slammed his mental shields into place, pointedly ignoring the emotions, the _cold_ , that lingered with him from the memory _._

He gingerly climbed down from his sleeping pod, his injuries from the slave auction still nagging him.  _Yet another day in paradise._ Obi-wan steeled himself for what would come next - the physical toil, the degradation, the _guilt_...

_No_ \- he stopped himself. _Control. Peace. Serenity._ He picked up a nearby shovel.

It was pointless labor, assigned with the sole intention of shattering the will. No goal in mind, no culminating output - he recalled a myth from his crèche days, one about a man who pushed a rock up a hill only to have it fall back down, again and again, without end. It wasn't the happiest of stories.

The whole concept of the facility was genius, really. _From a certain point of view, at least._

A Togrutan near him fell to the floor. It took all of Obi-wan's resolve to not stop everything he was doing and run to the poor man's side. _If_ _I do, I'll only make things worse._ He tried to distract himself by digging the shovel into the ground even harder, but the memory overwhelmed him. 

_~_

_His second day at the facility, Obi-wan had tried to help an ailing Togrutan, one who was obviously overworked and in desperate need of rest. He wasn’t a healer by any means, but instinct took over. The Jedi Master dropped his shovel and went over to the colonist. “Are you alright? Can I help?” *Please let me do something.*_

_The guards arrived within seconds._

_“You stop work without being told, slave?” The Zygerrian began to mercilessly flog the injured Togrutan._

_Obi-wan was horrified. “Please, it was my mistake! It won’t happen again!” But he was merely pushed away by the guards, who activated the shock collar around his neck._

_They continued to punish the colonist, the lash coming down, again and again._

_“No slave orders me!” growled the lead guard. He turned to Obi-wan without ceasing his punishment. “Beg, Jedi! Beg me or this one dies!”_

_The Togrutan’s cries of anguish filled the air.Obi-wan settled on his knees, head bowed, “Please. Forgive me. It - it won’t happen again.”_

_The Zygerrian gave one last flick of the weapon. He laughed as he walked away, not even acknowledging the Jedi Master._

_Once the guards had left, Obi-wan immediately came to the Togrutan's side. “Are you alright?”_

_The colonist pushed him away with more strength than he thought possible. “Please - no.” He spoke weakly. “Jedi - Jedi only make things worse.”_

_~_

The Togrutans began to avoid him. He heard whispers - whispers that the Jedi were dangerous, that their war had caused their suffering, that they needed to keep themselves away from him for their safety. Obi-wan was sure Arguss and his guards heard these discussions, and while the Zygerrians normally punished any extraneous speech, they didn’t seem too inclined to stop discussion on that particular topic.

Whispers could be as devastating as weapons.  

Obi-wan lifted his shovel again, ignoring his back, his ribs, and every other part of his body that was positively barking at him right now.

In retrospect, the willingness of both the Senate and the public to believe that the Jedi had any part of the Kiros colonists’ disappearance was troubling. He had shared the information with the Council, but not with Anakin, fearing his reaction in an already sensitive situation. 

It was, perhaps, not the best decision in a series of worsening judgements that had been made during the course of this mission.

~

_“Although I understand the need for a covert operation considering the political situation we're in, I really must question the wisdom of sending Anakin undercover as a slaver, Mace. You know his past. This could unbalance him.”_

_“If he is truly a Jedi, then he will have already learned to let go of that past. He cannot let that cloud his judgement.”_

Obi-wan could only huff in frustration.

_~_

Guilt rose up in the Jedi Master. _Oh, Anakin. If my experience is even half of what you endured on Tatooine before Qui-gon and I found you..._

Nine years was a very long time, he reflected. _Especially for a child._

There would be time to make amends later - for everything. 

He tried to comfort himself with the Jedi Code, but he had repeated it so often that it almost began to lose meaning in light of the daily atrocities staged in front of him - atrocities that hinged entirely on his own actions.

Obi-wan rammed the shovel into the earth with far more force than he intended. He paused.

_You could do it, you know._  His own voice sounded almost unfamiliar, shaded in a way he hadn't experienced since the Naboo generator complex so many years ago.  _They haven’t blocked your entire connection with the Force. How do you think you will enact the second part of your plan? The Force can set them *all* free..._

Pain seared through him. An electro-whip lashed on his back and he fell to the ground, looking up at Arguss’s leering visage. 

“Too good to work, Jedi?”

Obi-wan snarled - partially at the Zygerrian, but mostly at himself. _Sloppy, Kenobi! You’re letting your emotions get the better of you._

A crowd of guards had gathered around him. 

“Gentlemen!” began Arguss, “The Jedi seems to be unable to complete his work. Since he such an - _esteemed guest_ \- at our facility, I believe we should arrange for some help.”

_This can’t be good..._

Obi-wan clenched his teeth. “I...apologize. That will not be necessary, I assure you.”

Arguss chuckled. “Oh no, my dear Jedi. I’m afraid this time you will _truly_ need to mean it.” He turned to another guard, “Bring them in!”

Obi-wan’s heart sank at the sight at four small Togrutan children, each outfitted with a small shock collar, being prodded in front of him.

_They can’t possibly do this._

“Did I not warn you, Jedi, that your disobedience would be paid for by these creatures?” He looked with glee at the terrified younglings, igniting his weapon. 

Obi-wan couldn’t help but see the face of a nine-year-old Anakin Skywalker on each of the children in front of him. He couldn’t allow this to happen.

“Please!” the Jedi Master pleaded. “Please. I...apologize. It was my wrongdoing...Master.” He bowed his head. “Do whatever you want to me. Please don’t harm the younglings.” 

In that moment, he hated himself nearly as much as he hated the Zygerrians. 

Arguss raised his arm, ready to strike at the group of children. 

Obi-wan held his breath, the Force an icy vise around his heart.

_THWACK!_

The young Togrutans screamed. 

Every nerve in the Jedi’s body was on fire, his vision flashing red.

_I will kill him._

He looked over to where the younglings were. All four of them were huddled together, crying, but otherwise unharmed. The adrenaline rushed out of Obi-wan, and he nearly collapsed from relief.

_They’re okay. They’re not hurt. It was a scare tactic._

“Next time, _Master Jedi,_ they will not be so lucky. You had better be paying attention to your work.” Arguss leveled a stare at him.

Obi-wan seethed. 

“Of course, Master.” He replied evenly, casting his gaze downwards.

_I will not allow this to continue._

Despite the heat of the room, the air around the Jedi Master dropped a few degrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of the smear campaign is actually stolen from the comics. The necessity of an undercover operation makes a bit more sense in this context. 
> 
> Who *does* make the decisions about the Temple's interior decorating, anyway?
> 
> Poor, poor Obi-wan.
> 
> Chapter 6 preview: Anakin, Ahsoka and Rex make discoveries, plans, and a bit of trouble. Plus a cameo from our favorite Senator from Naboo.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the writers here on AO3. Your creativity, passion, and contributions are making the world a better place - something very sorely needed at the moment.
> 
> With a somewhat heavy heart, I give you Chapter 6.

Any slave in the city had heard of him by now, owing to his brutal beating of the Jedi Obi-wan Kenobi. He was at the Queen’s side at nearly all times. The man radiated power - although he was not Zygerrian, he seemed to be made for his role. They dared not disobey in his presence. 

The young Togrutan that had been his gift to the Queen was often seen sneaking worried glances over at the man. If they had been in her position, they would worry, as well. Although they had not seen him lay a hand on her so far, they all knew that not all punishment came in the form of a whip.

Out of his sight, out of his range of hearing, they speculated on his relationship with the Queen. This was against all Zygerrian traditions, all Zygerrian customs. Prime Minister Atai Molec was a notorious hardliner - would he accept such a situation? The slaves did not know - the slaves, in the end, did not care. It would not affect their day one way or another. 

Ahsoka Tano heard all these whispers and speculation. Unlike the other slaves, however, she only had a single observation. 

Anakin Skywalker was beginning to merge dangerously with Lars Quell.

~ 

“As you see,” the Queen drawled, “Zygerria once boasted hundreds of cities, just like this one.” They were outside the main gates. The Queen was giving him a tour of the Zygerrian landscape. Anakin could see the outlines of dilapidated buildings on the hills in the distance. It was obvious that no one had lived there for quite some time. She gestured towards them. “Those buildings you see were built by our slaves, slaves that we trained and sold as part of our empire.”

“It is quite an accomplishment, my Lady.” Sometime during the week, his voice had lost its usual emotional edge. The control that eluded Anakin Skywalker as Jedi came to him easily in the guise of a slaver. 

“Our processing facility, however, remains the best in the galaxy. Years ago, we boasted several facilities, each one training thousands of slaves. But since the Jedi came and destroyed what we built, our economy was...compromised. We can only fund the operation of one at the moment.” She looked at him slyly. “That, of course, will change with the war - especially now that we have the Jedi captive.”

It was the first mention of Obi-wan since Anakin had seen him carted off after the auction, unconscious and bleeding. 

“How is he progressing, if I may ask?” 

“Oh, quite well from all reports. The Jedi are among the most difficult beings in the galaxy to tame. But they themselves are merely slaves of the Republic and its corrupt Senate. In the end, it is only a matter of reprogramming. We have developed...special methods to ensure the compliance of this Obi-wan Kenobi. He will be no different than the others, once he has been fully processed.” 

Anakin could merely nod. He had seen the vacant stares of the slaves newly-returned from the processing facility in the palace, matching those he remembered from Tatooine so many years ago. Anakin hoped he would never have to look into Obi-wan’s eyes and see the same. _Where are you, Master?_

“It an impressive feat to tame this Jedi. I should like to visit this processing facility, to observe your methods.” 

Miraj Scintel laughed. “No outsider has ever seen it as a free man. It would be a first for our Zygerrian planet. Of course, my dear Quell,” she advanced on Anakin, putting one hand on his shoulder and running the other through his hair, “you may be the first for many things here.”

Scintel pressed her body into his, and Anakin silently cursed his unconscious physical reaction - she _was_ an attractive woman in many ways. Her lips were a breath away from his when he heard the distinctive _whirring_ of speeder bikes.

The Queen whipped around. “What is the meaning of this?”

Anakin could just see two bikes on the horizon. He instinctively went to grab his lightsaber from his belt and came up empty-handed. 

_Right._

He reached for the electro-whip he now carried instead, igniting it and assuming a ready position. 

“You might want to take cover, your Majesty.”

The drones of the two bikes grew louder as they approached. Anakin did not relax his stance - something about the situation felt off in the Force.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, the two bikes spat a line of blaster bolts at him. Anakin easily deflected them with the electro-whip. _Why are Zygerrians attacking us?_ They sped past him, making a sharp turn around to make another pass. 

Anakin dodged one of the oncoming Zygerrians, somersaulting out of the bike’s path. He quickly righted himself and flicked his weapon, catching the front of the bike. It jerked violently, throwing its rider off of it, but taking his whip with it. _Blast._ The unseated Zygerrian recovered quickly and immediately pulled out a blaster, shooting at the Jedi. 

Anakin evaded the shots, using the Force to dance around the bolts, like some strange contemporary ballet. He could sense the other attacker coming back for a third pass. _If I time it just right..._

Even though his back was turned to the speeder bike, he could sense its position through the Force. Anakin stayed in place, still mindful of the blaster bolts from the second attacker. The bike behind him gained speed, and was closing in quickly on the Jedi’s back. 

Anakin smiled to himself. _We’ll see how they like this._ With the bike feet away from his body, he jumped to the side as the speeder opened fire. The shots hit the first Zygerrian, killing him instantly. The second bike caught the remaining flak of the now-dead shooter. The machine began spew smoke and veer erratically off-course, finally crashing into a nearby mesa. 

He felt the Zygerrian’s signature extinguish in the Force. _I guess we won’t be getting any answers from them._

The adrenaline of battle began to wear off as the realization hit him. _I just rescued the Queen of a slave empire that we are supposed to be fighting._ Anakin wondered if he should have let her die. He didn’t have the answer. He didn’t want the answer.

Miraj approached him from behind. “Those were Zygerrians?”

Anakin nodded in assent.

The Queen narrowed her eyes. Anakin felt anger rolling off of her.

“Take me back to the palace, Quell. I would have words with Prime Minister Molec.”

~

The Prime Minister, Atai Molec, knocked at the entrance of the Queen’s chambers.

The door opened, not revealing guards, but Lars Quell. Molec didn’t contain the scowl on his face that betrayed his displeasure at Quell’s continued existence. He gave him no greeting, but simply pushed past the _off-worlder_ to address Scintel, who was presumably inside. 

“My Queen, I was informed of the news. Are you alright?”

She was seated on an ornate chair, looking every bit the royalty she was. Scintel took a long sip from her drink. “Yes, thanks to Quell." She gestured towards the human. "He was most impressive in his fighting. More so than the Zygerrian traitors who attacked me.” 

Molec turned slowly to face Quell, giving him a hard stare. “Indeed, then.” His tone was curt. “It is not often an outsider can defeat a single Zygerrian, no less two. My compliments on your... _luck_.”

The Prime Minister diverted his attention from the off-worlder. “My lady, we need to make sure there have been no other breaches. I am sending our security squads out right now to retrieve the bodies. We will find those responsible for this and punish them accordingly. My thought is that it is most likely those from the lower castes. As you know, they occasionally make trouble - it is of no concern to us. They are easily dealt with.”

Miraj nodded. “Be sure that this time they are _properly_ punished, Molec. It would not do to have another incident like this.”

“Of course, my Lady.” The door behind him opened. “Until we have finished the sweep, we will be doubling the guards around your quarters.” Four guards entered the room, standing at formation. The one on the far right looked strange to him, but Molec couldn’t quite place the problem. 

Molec grinned at Quell. “Because of security protocols, we cannot have any _outsiders_ ambling around the palace. I’m sure you understand.” _That will at least keep you contained, off-world scum._

“Of course,” the man replied.

“You,” the Queen pointed at the odd-looking guard, “Escort Quell back to his quarters.”

The guard merely nodded in response, not speaking. _Odd_ , thought Molec. “Is there anything else you require, my Queen?” 

“No, that will be all. Now both you, please leave me. I have an important transmission to make.” 

Molec bowed and made to leave the room. The guard opened the door, which responded with an indignant “Ouch!” It was the young Togrutan - the one that had been a gift from Lars Quell. 

The Prime Minister stalked forward. “What are you doing here, slave?” raged Molec. 

The young Togrutan looked panicked, “I was only coming to retrieve-”

He pushed in front of Quell, who was now standing in between himself and the defiant Togrutan. “Eavesdropping, are we? You will pay for your disobedience.” Molec raised his hand to strike - 

He couldn’t finish the action, finding his arm grasped by the tall human. “Wait,” the off-worlder ordered. 

_You presume to order me?_  Molec was incensed. “You dare stop me from punishing this one?”

Quell took a hold of the Togrutan’s upper arm roughly. “This one was my gift. If she is showing signs of...inadequacies, then I will be the one to fix her.” He turned his gaze to Molec, flashing a wicked grin. “There is more than one way of leaving a lasting impression, Prime Minister, if you sense my meaning.” He growled at Ahsoka. “With me to my quarters, slave.”

Atai Molec looked forward to the day when Lars Quell would be no more.

~

They entered Lars Quell’s quarters. Anakin bolted the door shut behind him with more force than necessary.

“Master! Rex!” erupted Ahsoka. 

Rex took his helmet off with a sigh of relief, “It’s good to see you, General. Commander.”

Anakin swiftly turned to his Padawan. “Ahsoka, what the _kriff_ were you thinking?” He was radiating fear, worry - and anger - into the Force. 

She scowled. “What was I thinking? I don’t know! That I’d try to get some intel so we could finally make a plan? It’s been a week, Master! All I’ve heard are rumors about you - the other slaves are terrified! You’ve barely communicated with me, even through our bond!” 

“I specifically told you to listen to rumors, and wait for my signal, not to go around eavesdropping on the Queen! That could have ended a lot worse than it did!” yelled Anakin, raising his arm, as if to strike. The Force responded with a violent surge.  

Ahsoka opened her mouth to respond but froze. She was shocked. And afraid. 

“General! Commander!” Rex interjected quickly. “Begging your pardon, but I don’t think we have a lot of time and this is our best shot at making a plan.”

Anakin seemed to come back to himself, only now noticing his arm. He suddenly felt ill.  _Oh Force, Snips. No - no, I would *never* do that._

There was a dark whisper in the back of his mind. _~But you did it to Obi-wan, didn’t you?~_

Anakin tensed. _No. That was different._

He sent a message through his bond with his Padawan.

_/Snips - I’m so sorry./_

Ahsoka's eyes widened, but she sent a gentle pulse back to Anakin.

_/Skyguy, I’m worried about you./_

Anakin only nodded in response.  _This mission has gone on far too long._

Rex cleared his throat, hoping to break the tension in the room. “So - uh - what’s the situation, General?” 

The action seemed to startle the two Jedi out of their trance. Anakin let out a heavy sigh, and turned to face the clone trooper.

“Well, Rex. As of right now, we still don’t know where the colonists are.”

He heard Rex mutter a curse under his breath in Mando’a.

Ahsoka slumped in response to the news. “Can we try calling for help from the Republic again?”

Anakin began to pace the room, needing to find _some_ way of dispelling his nervous energy. 

“No, Snips, we can’t.” She opened her mouth to argue. “Hear me out. I managed to get a signal to Senator Amidala yesterday. The situation is worse than we thought.” Anakin’s mind drifted back to the conversation he had with his wife.

~

_Artoo beeped happily upon seeing his master, rocking back and forth in a manner that almost exuded a childish delight._

_Anakin put his hand on top of the droid’s domed top, “It’s good to see you too, buddy. You ready to help reach Padmé?”_

_The assent came in a series of trills and whoops, as the little astromech set up the secure signal._

_*I really hope she’s there right now...*_

_His wife’s face suddenly appeared in the hologram. Anakin’s heart gave a small leap. *Oh Padmé...I miss you so much.*_

_“Anakin!” she exclaimed. “What’s going on? I though you were on a secret mission?” He had taken the time to explain the bare minimum of details to her before landing on the planet._

_“I was! I am!” Anakin shook his head, “Look, I don’t have a lot of time here. The Zygerrians have the Kiros colonists and Obi-wan.” Padmé looked shocked but didn’t interrupt. He spoke quickly. “They’re collaborating with the Separatists - they might even be running a black market slave trade. We need Republic intervention - ships.”_

_Padmé’s face looked downcast. “Anakin - don’t you know?”_

_*Uh-oh.* A sense of foreboding came over the Jedi. “Know what?”_

_“Republic interference won't be approved because Zygerria is technically neutral. Without proof of them holding the colonists, there’s nothing we can do.”_

_Anakin clenched his fists. “What? You have my word - my word as a Jedi!”_

_She bit her lip._ _“The Jedi have been blamed for the disappearance of the colonists, Anakin. It’s all over the Holonet. I thought you knew.”_

_He felt as if he had been slapped across the face. “What?”_

_“Maybe if this hadn’t reached the news outlets - oh, Anakin. I’ve spoken with Bail Organa - we’re, we’re trying to get support. But if we don’t have proof, we just can’t go invading neutral planets. That’s not how the system works.”_

_His patience snapped. “Your system is stupid, then!”_

_Padmé looked simultaneously wounded and offended. “Anakin!”_

_He stared at his wife, breathing heavily. *No, no - we’re on the same side. Get a hold of yourself, Skywalker.*_

_“Look, this isn’t safe. I - I have to go. Just promise me you’ll do everything you can to somehow get those ships here.” He cut off the transmission._

_Anakin threw his fist into the wall._

_~_

He had stopped pacing, lost in the memory of the argument with Padmé. “Master? Are you alright? What’s worse?” 

“We’re - we’re just not going to be able to rely on the Republic for this one, Snips.” He couldn’t bring himself to tell her that the Jedi were under suspicion of kidnapping her own people. Not right now. Not with everything that had already happened. 

Ahsoka gave him a long, skeptical look. _/I know you’re not telling me everything, Master./_

“Fine,” she finally replied. “What was the deal with the attack today?” Ahsoka asked, changing the subject, much to Anakin’s relief.

“I don’t know, Snips. Two Zygerrians attacked the Queen and I outside the city limits. They’re both dead, so there’s no way of knowing what their motivations were. Prime Minister Molec, looked _real_ disappointed to see me, though. There’s something not right about that guy.”

Rex spoke up. “I might be able to help with that, General. I overheard a conversation between two Zygerrians our first day here. It seems that Prime Minister Molec is planning some sort of coup against the Queen. They’re unhappy that she's getting involved with the Separatists, unhappy that _you’re_ here. He said he was going to ‘deal with you’ - that attack was probably ordered by him.”

That _did_ give Anakin pause to think. So Molec wanted him dead? That certainly explained a lot about their interactions. He knew that not everyone in the palace was as thrilled about the deal with the Separatists as the Queen was. Now it seemed like those tensions ran a lot deeper. 

“Master - I might have an idea.” Ahsoka had that _look_ on her face, the one that usually came before some wild plan. Anakin steeled himself. 

She turned to Rex. “Do we know where the Zygerrians store their weapons?”

“Yes, I have the complete layout of the weapons stores.” Rex contemplated the question for a moment. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?” he asked, somewhat incredulously. 

Anakin’s senses focused, and for the first time in a week, he felt something close to a cautious optimism. _Oh, Snips - that’s crazy. But it just might work._

“Atai Molec wants to topple the Queen. What if we just...help him a bit?” Ahsoka gave the two men a conspiratorial grin.

“Do you think they’ll go for it?” asked Rex. Anakin could feel the disbelief in the clone.  _Always the voice of reason, good old Rex is._

Would it be terrorism? A coup? They would make it look like Molec's men had attacked. They could instigate the violence and leave the Zygerrians to fight out the real battle. They were close to it, he could feel it in the Force.

Obi-wan and the Council would have his head for this. Staging a terrorist attack? Faking the start of a coup on a neutral planet?  _Kriff the Council. It’s their fault we’re in this mess to begin with._ If the Zygerrians were distracted enough by civil unrest, he was certain they could pull the intelligence they needed about the colonists. It wasn’t the _best_ plan, but those were always the ones he excelled at. 

“It’s better than waiting here.” Anakin flashed his first true smile since landing on Kiros. “If the Republic won’t help us, we’ll just have to help ourselves.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you waiting for more Obi-wan angst, I promise there will be *plenty* in the upcoming chapters. I certainly have enough of my own to draw upon for inspiration now.
> 
> Chapter 7 preview: My second-favorite character to write is coming to town - Count Dooku


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update as I've basically had this (short) chapter ready to go for a while.

Yan Dooku was a patient man. Noblemen were not anxious. Jedi Masters were serene. And a true Sith showed control. The imposing older gentleman exhibited all of these traits, and he was willing to tolerate certain circumstances as long as it played to his own ends. Dooku’s interactions with the Zygerrians, however, were beginning to test even his patience.

Count Dooku found the whole race to be self-possessed, uncivilized, and lacking in any true long-term vision or strategy. _Much like that irritant Skywalker_ , he mused. When his Master had sent him to arrange the deal that would bring the Togrutan colonists to Zygerria, he had thought little of it - they were a backwater planet in economic shambles, with little strategic value. But now he was beginning to regret the whole interaction.

Of course, it had been the Zygerrians that contacted him in the first place, boasting of their ability to tame any race, to create armies of slaves for the Separatists to use in war. The arrangement, as it had originally been intended, was that Dooku would send captured populations to Zygerria, where they would be processed and then sold back to CIS planets. Their Queen, a base woman named Miraj Scintel had then gone on to boast that the Zygerrians would even be able to tame Jedi, and eventually create an army of broken warriors for his use.

_Ridiculous_ , Dooku thought.

“Let them try, Tyranus,” his Master had stated with uncharacteristic mirth. “It will keep them occupied. They might even succeed. And if the Queen should fail - kill her.” Sidious had already planned on eliminating the Queen after she outlasted her usefulness. If that happened ahead of schedule, so be it. 

Still, there was merit in the idea of breaking down a Jedi, pushing them to the brink where they might be more susceptible to the influence of the Dark Side. The problem, for the Count, was that there were really only a handful of Jedi that might be worth the effort, and only one that he was certain could meet, and possibly exceed, his expectations. _It is better to kill them than waste my time trying to turn them._

Dooku sighed as he transmitted the clearance code given to him by the Zygerrians, watching the planet’s barren landscape come into focus as he entered the atmosphere. He disliked Sidious’s more grandiose plans - they reeked of overconfidence and tended to create more problems than ones solved, despite his Master's assurances that it was all part of a greater strategy. Already, Dooku had to plant rumors that the Jedi had been behind the disappearance of the colonists on Kiros, and he had to be certain that there could be no way of tracking the slave trade back to the CIS - the political fallout would be disastrous. 

And now, the Queen had insisted that he come to Zygerria, to see evidence that her plan to subjugate the Jedi was, in fact, moving forward. Most irritatingly, she would not give any details except that she felt that Dooku would be “most pleased” by both the progress and the Jedi involved. He doubted the veracity of the Queen’s claims, but was obligated to travel to the planet, as he sensed Jedi interference more than Jedi servility.

_The small etiquettes of diplomacy must be adhered to - for now, at least_. The Sith stood up, taking a minute to straighten his silken black tunic, making sure there were no wrinkles in the material. He plucked a small comb from his front shirt pocket, running it through his silver hair and beard, looking in the mirror of the ‘fresher on board to ensure he was every bit the nobleman as he was the Force-wielder. He patted his right hip, feeling the curved hilt of his lightsaber. The ship landed and he made his way down the boarding ramp into the dry Zygerrian air. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8 preview: Obi-wan decides if the ends justify the means


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting sooooo close to the really juice stuff. So close. 
> 
> For the time being, enjoy some Obi-wan angst.

Obi-wan was so very tired.

The conditions in the processing facility had only become harsher, more difficult, with each day. His untreated injuries sent stabbing pains through his body with every lift of a shovel, every lash at his back. Blood from his wounds seeped through his now thoroughly distressed tunics.

Arguss took perverse pleasure in goading the Jedi Master. The Zygerrian would hover close to him as he toiled - his breath rotten, hot on Obi-wan’s neck - whispering in his ear. Stories of depraved, obscene acts visited upon the slaves of Zygerria in back rooms and dark corners. Plans to create child armies for the use of Outer Rim crime lords. A catalog of every torment he could - and would - bring down on them all.

It took all the control the Jedi Master possessed to not react. 

Again and again, he wished to carry the burden of these poor beings himself. He would endure their punishments, their mistreatment, if it meant he could protect them all. He had outlasted Ventress on Jabiim - he could certainly outlast the Zygerrians here. Instead he was forced to watch others suffer - and do nothing, lest they suffer more. It went against every ideal, every principle he held as a Jedi. He felt as if he was betraying the Order each day he was here. _What was the point of all of this?_

Obi-wan practically collapsed into his sleeping pod at night, hoping for the solace of a dreamless sleep. It never came, of course. The screams of the colonists rang in his ears, merging with visions of those who had died during the war, even before the war - those he couldn’t save, those who he had simply watched meet their end - civilians, clones, Jedi...

_ Qui-gon. _

That was when the nightmares would begin. 

~

_He threw off his collar, feeling the cold fury of the Force rush through him. It felt good, better than good, and he allowed the icy heat to permeate his mind. Finally, the Zygerrians would be stopped. Finally, he could take action. His eyes fell on Arguss, who took such a twisted delight in torturing them all, in creating pain and suffering. Yes, he would be the first. Obi-wan stalked towards the slave master. Calling on the Force, he lifted the Zygerrian in the air, and with a single vicious motion, ripped his arm off. Kenobi basked in the screams, the cries, begging for mercy. There would be no mercy. Limb by limb, Obi-wan dismembered Arguss with brutal efficiency. There was no wasted motion, no unneeded excess of rage. Kenobi had complete mastery over himself, over the Force, and he wielded his powers with a terrible, beautiful precision. Fire and ice, interacting in perfect balance. The Force roared with approval._

_He threw what was left of Arguss’s bleeding corpse to the ground with contempt._

_*Uncivilized creature.*_

_ Guards came running towards him, surrounding the Jedi. He smirked. _

_ *This is almost too easy, my dear Zygerrians.* _

_ Kenobi made no move to run, no move to defend himself. He simply outstretched both of his arms, _ _clenching his fists. Almost immediately the Zygerrians reached for their throats, clawing at invisible fingers that were slowly draining their life. Kenobi drank in their struggle as he felt their Force signatures falter -_

_~_

_No!_

Obi-wan slammed his mental shields into place, his breaths coming in short gasps. He was drenched in his own sweat, his heart beating rapid-fire. The Jedi Master’s mind filled with an awful buzzing sensation, the icy presence of the Force in his dream still gripping his body.

_Breathe._

He forced himself to take a series of deep inhalations, running a shaky hand through his dirty, tangled hair as he slowed his breathing. He hadn’t had dreams like this since Qui-gon had died, and even those had not been so... _visceral_. The Jedi Master shuddered. 

_Focus on the here and now._  

Obi-wan worked on re-erecting his shields, the barriers that were keeping his emotions at bay. He was almost glad for the suppressant in his system - he would not want to feel this level of distress with full access to the Force.

His subconscious was wrangling with the implications of his nightmares - _not that it isn't painfully obvious_. What truly disturbed him, however, was just how _real_ the dreams felt. So real that he half-expected Count Dooku to show up personally to congratulate him on his fall. Obi-wan grimaced. He _really_ needed to meditate.  _I suppose there will be ample time for that once I'm off this wretched rock._  

That time seemed to be drawing close. The Zygerrians were stingy with information, but Arguss had not been able to stop himself from taunting Obi-wan with the knowledge that an "interested party" had wanted to personally see the progress they were making with the Jedi. Seeing as the location of the facility was of the upmost secrecy, he came to the conclusion that he would be going back to Zygerria, at least for a bit. Something about the information brought a chill to Obi-wan, a sense of foreboding, but he brushed the thought aside.

He needed proof of the processing facility to bring with him, some evidence that the colonists were indeed held there by the Zygerrians. He had observed certain guards carrying data devices with them on the floor, presumably for extra surveillance and the cataloging of slaves.  _Like we're droids_ , he thought darkly.

Obi-wan had watched them swap out the memory chips from the devices from time to time, pocketing one and inserting the second. With that knowledge, he had a plan - avoid the surveillance droids, make a diversion, and swipe the data chip in the process. It was a risky course of action, and he had felt more than a twinge of discomfort knowing that there was a good chance his "diversion" would end in an electro-whip at the back of one or more of the Togrutans. He had only hoped that they, and the Force, would forgive him in the end.

~

_Obi-wan scanned the facility floor. The surveillance droids were out of sight. It was essential that Arguss not have the opportunity to see this._

_He was positioned close to the guard he had identified as carrying a data device._

_Obi-wan continued his work, as if everything were normal, pulling a large and rather heavy wheeled industrial container across the floor. The guard watched him with passive disinterest._

_*Wait for it...now.*_

_Obi-wan "tripped" and fell to the ground. It was an act, but his grunts of discomfort were closer to the truth than he wanted to admit._

_As predicted, the guard was over in seconds._

_He felt the boot of the Zygerrian land in his stomach. “Get up, scum.”_

_Obi-wan slowly raised himself, crawling up the Zygerrian’s body as an anchor, hands on his legs, near his pocket..._

_“I don’t need your dirty hands on me, Jedi,” he said with disgust, backhanding Obi-wan across the face. He saw stars and fell back. Obi-wan anticipated the lash of an electro-whip._

_None came. There was a quiver in the Force. A strangled shout. He looked up, only to find the prone form of a colonist several feet away._

_The guard gave Obi-wan a knowing glare and walked away without a word. The data chip he now possessed felt like it would burn a hole through his hand._

~

Obi-wan bit down on his lower lip, hand over his ragged beard. For not the first time during this mission, or the war itself, he was coming to question whether the ends justified the means.  _I am meant to be a keeper of the peace, but all that has followed me is death and destruction._

He sighed.  _You were right about all of this, Anakin. I'm so sorry._

His thoughts were interrupted by a noise behind him. The doors to the main facility room opened, revealing Arguss and a small retinue of guards.

“Well, _Jedi_ , it looks like it's time to go. Down here. Now.” 

Obi-wan steeled himself for one last interaction with this...creature. His body radiated tension as he climbed down from his sleeping pod to face the Zygerrian.

Arguss hovered directly in front of Obi-wan, his eyes full of cold hatred. He grasped the Jedi’s chin upwards, forcing Kenobi to look directly at him. “Make no mistake, Kenobi, I am not done with you yet,” he hissed. The Zygerrian snapped his fingers, and two guards came forward, grabbing the Jedi’s arms roughly behind his back, attaching a set of binders to his wrists. “I _will_ break you.” Arguss gave a nod.

Obi-wan felt the lash of the electro-whip on his back. With his hands bound behind him, he had no choice but to fall forward, face-first into the ground. He felt his nose break on impact, and tasted the metallic tang of blood. 

“Come, Jedi! Give me something to remember you by.” Obi-wan could hear the glee in the Zygerrian’s voice. “Set a good example for these fine people." The colonists had begun to wake, and Obi-wan could sense their eyes on him. 

"On your knees. I want everyone here to watch you submit to me, to call _me_ Master.”

Obi-wan rolled to his side, his head throbbing, his nose bleeding freely. The logical part of him knew that only one more act of subservience, of _degradation,_ lay between him and his first steps towards freedom. 

But he was battered, physically and emotionally. The Jedi rolled to his knees, and extended a leg, readying himself to stand. He glared at Arguss in challenge, not willing to submit himself to this creature that blasphemed everything he believed in, who used his Jedi ideals against him for the pure enjoyment of wanton violence. 

Arguss was face-to-face with him, punctuating every word with a jab of his electro-whip hilt in the air. 

“On. Your. Knees.” 

They stared at each other in mutual hatred. 

“You know what the consequences will be.”

He almost didn’t care - hadn't he already brought a deluge of suffering to the Togrutans? What would one more storm be? It all almost ceased to have meaning to him. 

~ _Come, Kenobi. He is no match for you, really. None of them are.~_ The icy, seductive voice washed over the Jedi.

The Force quivered with anticipation, its icy-hot waves churning like oceans. 

_There...is no emotion. Peace._ The wordsalmost pained him to repeat. _Once more. I need only do this once more._

Obi-wan sank back to his knees, angry. 

And defeated. 

“Yes, Master.” 

He barely managed to get the words out of his mouth, through his clenched teeth. His fist was clenched so tightly that his nails dug into the flesh of his palm, drawing blood. He had completely forgotten about his broken nose.

Arguss cackled.

_~_

He was escorted onto the shuttle. Obi-wan almost missed the opportunity as he boarded the ship, so overwhelmed was he with containing his emotions. The nav computer was within his range of sight.

He snapped at himself. _Kenobi! Focus!_

Obi-wan managed a quick glance at the console before being roughly shoved into a back room of the ship. It was a mere second, but he had managed to commit the coordinates to memory. 

The door was closed and locked behind him. Obi-wan closed his eyes, soaking in the relative silence of the holding room, the luxurious privacy of this cell. For the first time since the mission began, he felt a faint prickling of hope. 

Obi-wan ran his tongue over the data chip that he had been hiding in his mouth, grateful that he hadn’t broken it in his last confrontation with Arguss. He was certain he was heading back to Zygerria, and therefore back to Anakin and Ahsoka. Not only did he have proof of the slave trade, but he now had the coordinates of the facility to go along with it. 

He allowed a fine trickle of relief to flow through him. _They can’t hold the colonists over my head anymore. I shall be free to act...accordingly. The Republic can free the Togrutans and I can get Anakin, Ahsoka, and Rex away from this terrible place._ If his Force signature felt slightly cold, the Jedi Master didn’t notice it. _We are so close now._ _Maybe it will all be worth it in the end._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 9 preview: Anakin and the gang make preparations. Dooku and the Queen finally meet each other face-to-face. The Queen makes a startling revelation that piques Dooku's interest.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapter update! (I had originally intended for this to be one longer chapter, but the tone shift bothered me, so I split it into chapters 9 & 10).

Something was coming. It was almost time. He could feel it in the Force.

Anakin had spent the past few days making preparations for the Zygerrian coup. 

Communication had been difficult with Rex and Ahsoka - there just hadn’t been another opportunity to be in the same room together since their first meeting a few days ago. Anakin and Ahsoka could easily rely on their Force-bond, but communication with Rex was more difficult. They settled on using  _dadita_ \- a series of short and long tones that could be communicated through sound, light, or even touch. Anakin was grateful Rex had taken the time to teach both him and Obi-wan the Mandalorian communication method earlier in the war.

_Obi-wan..._

He let out a grunt of frustration. Anakin was torn between anger and worry. It had been a ten-day and aside from one comment from the Queen, he knew nothing about where the man was or what was being done to him. 

_Well, that’s not entirely true. I have a pretty good idea of what they’re doing to him._

Anakin thought back to their first day on Zygerria, when he had raised that... _weapon_ , the same one hanging on his belt right now, against his former Master. He looked down on it with disgust, taking the electro-whip hilt off and throwing it across the room. It landed with a series of violent clangs.

_Kriff, Obi-wan! How could you let me do that to you?_ Guilt rose up in the Jedi’s chest.  _I was just...so angry. I’m surprised he couldn’t sense it...and then the attack - I didn't even know who it was..._

Anakin’s thoughts trailed off as he had an awful realization. 

_Karking chuba fierfek -_

He slammed his hand into the wall. _We are going to have a long discussion when we get back to Coruscant, *Master.*_ Anakin shook the pain out of his hand. _After I tell the Council to kriff off._

Anakin heard a light rapping on the door. *s _hort-long-long_.* 

_It’s Rex._

Anakin listened for the rest of the message.

* _Visitor arriving - one hour._ _On duty. Ahsoka on way.*_

That meant Molec had reassigned Rex to be with the Queen when the visitor arrived.

_Kriffing Sith hells._

Anakin didn’t like it. The plan was risky enough, and now one of their team would be cutoff from communication. It left them too vulnerable. He only hoped the clone would be able to slip away in the chaos after they initiated the attack.

Rex had been able to get at the Zygerrian weapons stores, planting bombs all around the lower and middle levels of the palace, hoping to draw the elite guard away from the security rooms. The arrival of the guest meant tighter security, but it also meant that the defenses would be stretched thin with the addition of an attack. That would be their opportunity to break in and steal the information regarding the colonists _and_ retrieve Artoo and their lightsabers. Rex had also somehow been able to nab a few blasters, so Anakin was relatively confident in their firepower, at the very least. 

There was a knock on the door. _It’s Ahsoka._

“Come in,” he ordered.

A Zygerrian appeared on the other side, with his Padawan in tow. He roughly pushed the Togrutan inside Anakin’s room and she fell to the floor. The Force rumbled around Anakin, but he did not react. 

The guard sneered. “Compliments of the Queen. She doesn’t want you to get bored tonight.” The Zygerrian smiled. “Don’t _overuse_ her. We were promised next dibs.” Anakin burned internally, his body taut with anger. _/Snips, they haven’t...done anything to you, have they?/_

He realized Ahsoka probably wouldn’t tell him the truth - at least, not until they were all safely back home. But if anyone had laid a finger on his Padawan in any inappropriate way, there would be nine Corellian hells to pay. 

The guard left the room. Ahsoka picked herself up, brushing off her arms. “I’m okay, Master. A little bruised, but that’s it. Those _sleemos_  have no chance of getting near me.”

Anakin breathed a sigh of relief. Revenge was not the Jedi way, but he didn’t care. These Zygerrians deserved what was coming to them. 

“Ready to be free, Ahsoka?” 

She used the Force to open the locks of both the shock collar and the tracking bracelet. 

Ahsoka grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations from Huttese (warning foul language):
> 
> karking/kriffing: fucking, fuck  
> fierfek: curse/general expletive  
> chuba: damn  
> sleemo: slime-ball
> 
> Translations from Mando'a:
> 
> dadita - dadita was an ancient Mandalorian code, comprised of a series of long and short tones that together could be used to spell out words or numbers. Dadita could be transmitted and communicated in numerous ways, ranging from simply banging out the code on a piece of metal, to flashing a light source, and even transmitting the tones hidden in bursts of static. (from Wookiepedia)
> 
> Chapter 10 preview: Dooku and Miraj talk...and pretend to like each other. Alcohol is not the social lubricant it's cracked up to be.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!Please note this was a *2 chapter* update - please go back to Chapter 9 if you haven't been there yet!!!
> 
> The fun begins...

“Queen Scintel, it is a pleasure to finally meet you in person.” Count Dooku's deep voice resonated in the high-ceilinged room. He took the Zygerrian’s hand to his lips, bowing deeply.

“The pleasure is all mine, dear Count,” she replied, giving him a rather insincere smile. She handed the Sith an elegant glass holding a golden liqueur, raising it to the man without word before taking a sip.

Dooku mirrored her gesture and found himself pleasantly surprised. He may have had little respect for the Zygerrian race, but he could not fault the Queen for her taste in libations. 

“Your message was quite intriguing,” Dooku began, wishing to move directly to the point at hand, “although rather scant on details. I should wish to hear more of this so-called Jedi you claim to have in your possession.”

Miraj smiled and walked over to the balcony that overlooked the arena where the slave auction had taken place no less than ten days ago. The Sith took that as a cue to join her, and they surveyed the now empty arena below them. 

“My planet, Count, was once a great Empire. The Zygerrian race knew few equals in the Outer Rim, and our people knew prosperity.” She gestured beyond the arena to the city below, the lights of the buildings illuminating the night sky. “Our slave system afforded us hundreds of years of success by adhering to natural law - the weak must be ruled by the strong - they need the guidance and structure we Zygerrians provide, and we allow them to live in return for their work. It is, how your people might say, a win-win situation.” 

Her voice took on an edge. “The Jedi came and disrupted this order, destroying our empire. They are fools who preach peace yet practice violence, only to flee from the responsibility of power that comes with supremacy. Because of this hypocrisy, the Jedi are inherently weak, and can be broken to our will. The Zygerrians _will_ see our revenge on the Jedi, and our new Empire will be built on their backs!” 

_The hypocrisy of the Jedi is a point we can both agree on,_ Dooku thought. 

“A most ambitious plan, your Highness.” _But one of little art and even less chance of success._ Dooku may have thought the Jedi sold out their values to the Republic, but he dared not underestimate their power. 

The Queen turned to face the Sith Lord. “I have in my possession a Jedi of high standing. A Jedi now brought low. We have kept this man at our processing facility, and even within a week he shows signs of despair.”

Dooku considered this statement. _She obviously wants something from me, or else I would have more details already._ The Sith yearned to kill the woman and just get it over with, but the possible complications of a Jedi being involved meant playing the game for a bit longer.

“This _does_ sound most impressive, my Lady,” his tone not entirely reflecting his words. “However, the Jedi are, as you stated, deceitful at their core. You must excuse my skepticism, but I can think of a great number of those in the Order who might feign all manner of... _dispositions_ , including despair...that might not be possible to perceive by those not gifted with the Force.” 

The Queen showed a taut smile in response. “Of course, Count. I understand that there are certain intangibles at work in this situation. I will bring you the Jedi, of course, but first I would like to discuss the _terms_ of our engagement here?”

_Ah yes, and now we come to the heart of the matter._ “Please, go on.” Dooku took another sip of his drink and looked expectantly at Scintel. _Always let the other side talk themselves *out* of a position of power._

“Zygerria entered into this partnership with Separatists on the terms that the Kiros colonists and future captives would be brought to us for processing and sale. Zygerria needs a reliable source of income, it is no secret that we are not the great Empire we once were. While slaves may fetch a decent price on the market, a Jedi would be worth so much more. If such Jedi as this one may fall, how many others will follow? Imagine...imagine an army of Jedi in your service for the Separatist cause.”

Dooku set his glass down. He was very much tiring of overambitious leaders of backwater planets. “A most intriguing offer, my Queen, but one that is not without its difficulties. The Separatist army is comprised of droids, well-programmed droids, but machines nonetheless. The advantage of this is that we avoid the complications that come with sentient beings." He gave the Queen a piercing look. "Even slaves rebel.” 

“This is by no means to say that we underestimate your...retraining methods, but in a delicate situation that involves the Jedi, one can never be too careful.” Dooku knew this all too well, and had taken the precaution of cloaking his Force presence as he landed on the planet. He wanted to catch this Jedi by surprise, and the additional strain of muting his signature was well worth the effort.

The Queen spoke impatiently, setting down her glass on a nearby table. “I understand your reticence, Count, but I do believe we could work out a suitable arrangement.”

Dooku wished he could let out a heavy sigh. “My Queen, what you say is doubtless of interest in the hypothetical sense, but I would need concrete proof of this so-called ‘Jedi slave’ before I could even begin negotiations about renewed terms of agreement.” _Really, this charade has gone on long enough._ “If you cannot produce evidence of this, then I am afraid I must take my leave of you immediately.” He began to turn towards the exit.

He was calling her bluff, of course. Dooku had no intention of leaving before he saw this Jedi in the flesh. He had no doubt he would eliminate both the Queen and the Jedi tonight, but not before he had evaluated the Jedi himself. He was halfway out the door before Scintel spoke again. 

“Would the name Obi-wan Kenobi be enough to sustain your interest, Count?”

Dooku stopped in his tracks. He turned around slowly, eyes narrowed, his noble demeanor darkened ever so slightly by a predatory leer. The darkness began to swirl around him. 

“ _He_ is the Jedi you speak of?” Dooku growled.

“Yes.”

“Bring him here. _Now_.” There was no room for question or negotiation in his words.

_Well, well, well - this *does* change the situation._ The Count knew that Kenobi was in no way subjugated to the Zygerrians' will. The man was far too cunning, far too _devious_ , and wielded the Force far too well for that. He closed his eyes, dipping into the currents of the dark side that rippled around him. No, Kenobi _allowed_ himself to be captured and sent to the processing facility. Dooku could not divine the ultimate reason for this yet, but he had no doubt it was linked to the Kiros invasion. 

The Sith briefly considered just killing the Queen and leaving Kenobi to fight his way off the planet. Staying ran the risk of exposure of the Separatist involvement in the slave trade, and he was certain that Kenobi had allies somewhere on Zygerria. But the prospect of seeing just how far the Zygerrians had pushed the Jedi was far too delicious to give up. _He may not be bent to *their* will, but I wonder how far his self-sacrificing behavior might push him down a path where he could be bent to *mine*._

Dooku stroked his beard and took a seat on one of the plush chairs in the room. He picked up his glass, draining it of the remainder of its alcohol. The Sith wore a dark smile as he contemplated the threads of possibility before him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Dooku, you're a classy kind of evil. And you're a little creepily obsessed with Obi-wan. 
> 
> Chapter 11 preview: Obi-wan has the unexpected (sort-of) family reunion he really never wanted. They argue over (what else) politics and religion.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Family reunion, Part I. 
> 
> (My update dates to Chapters 9 & 10 were a little screwy, so if you haven't read them yet, please do!)
> 
> (Also, I just re-wrote the opening this morning. Hopefully it will flow a little better now!)

“Get going, Jedi.” 

He was led - or more correctly, shoved - down the shuttle ramp by the Zygerrian guards, one at each side. His hands bound behind him, his tunics in tatters, his face a bloody mess - he looked every part the battered captive he had been for the past week. 

Obi-wan took a deep breath as he reached the landing platform, trying to find his center. The cool, dry air of Zygerria was a marked improvement over the repressive sulfuric haze of the volcanic Kadavo. 

The Jedi was immediately brought to the royal palace, passing through hallway after hallway, a veritable labyrinth of corridors, until they reached an ornate antechamber that was connected to the Queen’s quarters. He was too tired, too distracted to truly absorb any details of the building or the room itself - his strategic instinct told him this was a mistake, but he just couldn't bring himself to care.  Any glimmer of hope for an escape that he might have held had been smothered by the large number of guards assigned to watch him.  _ Not that I would get very far in this condition, anyway. _

The prospect of meeting the Queen and this “guest” was not one that he was especially looking forward to, considering the sole purpose of his presence was to show off his supposed "progress" in the processing facility, which meant more humiliating subjugation. He clenched his fists behind him.

The Jedi could feel the familiar icy tendrils of his emotions creeping into his brain, beginning to unbalance him.  _ Enough, Kenobi. _ He shut his eyes tightly, hoping to push away his anger with one simple movement. Obi-wan knew that the past week had made him uncharacteristically short-tempered and he was concerned for his own emotional balance. He turned his thoughts away from the topic and forced himself to concentrate on something else. 

_I need to get the coordinates and this chip to someone,_  feeling yet again for the small piece of technology in his mouth. Obi-wan reached out through his tenuous connection with the Force, its tendrils wavering, difficult to grasp for the weakened Jedi Master. _/Anakin! Anakin, if you can hear me, I have the location of the colonists./_ He waited, hoping to receive some kind of reply or prod through their bond, but there was nothing. Instead, he felt an intrusion of something else, something cold, something penetrating. Obi-wan heard muted voices through the large closed doors. _Something is not right, but I can’t quite place it..._

There were footsteps - the doors opened and Obi-wan was brought inside by two Zygerrian guards. Immediately in his view was the Queen, as haughty as he had last seen her at the slave auction. His body tensed as he fought the awful instincts his experience in the facility had conditioned in him - _comply, or they die,_ the odious voice of Arguss echoed in his mind. But here there was no reason for that sort of compliance - there was no immediate danger to others in this room, only to himself. 

Obi-wan straightened his posture and fixed his eyes directly on the Queen in challenge. He radiated an emotion he wanted to call disgust, but knew bordered dangerously close to the hatred that had been simmering within him the past week. 

“You will show respect, slave,” growled the guard on the left. The two Zygerrians pushed him roughly onto his knees in front of the Queen, one holding his head at a downward angle, the other with both hands on his shoulders. It did not escape Obi-wan’s attention that the guard at his shoulders used less force than the one at this head. Still, he grit his teeth. The Jedi was truly tiring of being made to fall prostrate in front of these barbarians. 

The cold that had penetrated his mind outside the room increased. Stripped of much his Force sensitivity, he could not discern who or what could be the locus of darkness he was experiencing. A terrible thought rose in the back of his mind, born of his nightmares on Kadavo - _please let it not be me._

“Well, Count” Miraj drawled, “what do you make of our specimen?”

Obi-wan’s stomach dropped in an instant. 

Still unable to see past the knees of his captors, he heard the soft padding of leather boots advancing towards him. It took him little time to link the cold penetration with the Sith that now stood in front of him. 

“Well, well, Master Kenobi,” came the amused greeting from Count Dooku. 

Obi-wan scrambled his energies to reinforce any protection he could muster around his thoughts - his shields were strong, but still somewhat unsteady. A cursory evaluation showed that the Sith had no interest in any intelligence or secrets he held in his mind, however. Dooku was far more concerned with his...emotional state. 

_Why Count, I didn’t know you cared,_ he thought acidly. He took a deep breath, attempting to suppress all his thoughts, all his emotions. 

“Release him,” ordered the Count. Obi-wan felt the pressure on his head and shoulders relent, but not before he felt a distinct rhythm pulsed into his flesh. The movement was subtle - the guard’s fingers had barely showed signs of movement.

Kenobi tightened his shields even further. He didn’t even dare think the name of the man who just alerted him to his presence in this room. Clone army soldiers had a short tactile code for situations like this, when verbal or visual communication was impossible under the scrutiny of too many eyes.  _And I know this code..._

Released from the grasp of the guards, Obi-wan lifted his gaze to Dooku. There was something profoundly disturbing about being brought to his knees in front of the Sith, even if it was by coercion. He felt complicit in the darkness, just by the nature his posture. _By the nature of my dreams..._  Obi-wan shook off those thoughts and collected himself, trying to greet the man as casually as possible.

“Count Dooku. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The older man did not reply, but instead began to slowly circle the Jedi, hands clasped behind his back.

“Tell me, Master Kenobi,” pointedly ignoring his question, “how is it that you come to be here, on the edge of the Outer Rim? There is no battle being fought in this sector, and your Republic has no jurisdiction on a neutral planet.”

“I could ask the same of you, Count.” Obi-wan fixed Dooku with a calculating stare. “Or is the Separatist government officially legitimizing the slave trade? I’m certain that news will travel quickly on the Holonet.” 

The Jedi could _feel_ the Count’s eyes on him, appraising, searching. “ _I_ was invited here, Master Kenobi. Your presence, however...” He let the statement hang in the air. 

Obi-wan let out a small, cynical laugh. “Fine, then - I was on leave and looking for a place to take a holiday. Zygerria is just lovely this time of year, don’t you think?” 

The guard to his left grumbled. 

“Indeed.” The Count lingered behind the Jedi, leaning in close to his ear. “The war has fatigued us all. And how are you feeling after this...respite? Refreshed? _Balanced?_ ”

Irritation rose in the Jedi Master. _I am not playing your game, Count._

“What is it you want, Dooku?” He couldn’t quite keep the bite out of his words.

“As I said, I am merely a guest of Queen Scintel, here at her request.” Dooku smiled. “Much the same as you.”

Obi-wan couldn’t hold back the snort that sprung from him. 

“Really Dooku, imitation is the worst form of flattery.” 

That finally earned him a backhand across the face from the guard on his left. 

Dooku held up his hand, signaling for the guard to cease. He sighed somewhat theatrically, and turned to the Queen, an edge creeping into his voice. “My Lady. You brought me here with the promise of a Jedi that had been broken, one that had been bent to your people’s will. What I find before me is a tattered and dirty Jedi who retains the same impudence that he uses as often, if not more than his lightsaber.”

Obi-wan turned to Scintel with a sardonic grin. _Bringing me out of that blasted facility was your fatal mistake, my Queen._

“I assure you, Count, this Jedi has been taught obedience and _he will relearn the lesson if he begins to forget._ ” The Queen stepped menacingly towards Obi-wan, producing the hilt of an electro-whip from her skirt, holding its edge under the Jedi’s chin.

“We have so many methods of taming you, Master Jedi. Perhaps I should bring Lars Quell back to teach you another lesson in obedience?”

Obi-wan froze. _No. Not this again._ Visions of the auction filled the Jedi’s mind - Anakin’s anger, his own morally dubious decisions - 

_This is not the time for guilt, Kenobi._ The Force took on a wintry bite. 

He lowered his eyes. “I...do not believe that will be necessary.”

Dooku’s face remained impassive as ever, but Obi-wan could feel the disbelief rolling off the Count. Disbelief and suspicion. 

“See, Count, he _can_ be controlled, with the proper motivation.”

Dooku stroked his beard in contemplation. “The threat of violence has never before been an impediment to _this_ particular Jedi.” He turned to Kenobi, giving him a hard look. “I should like to meet this Lars Quell, who seems to have the power to do what most cannot - tame the great Obi-wan Kenobi.”

_Not good._   __He needed to get that information to Rex before Anakin became involved. _I need a diversion - now._

“You’ll find that the Force is not so easily tamed, my dear Count,” he replied through gritted teeth. _Must I resort to this tactic again?_ Without waiting for Dooku’s response, Obi-wan stood up quickly, barreling head-first into Dooku’s abdomen, sending the Sith into a nearby wall, temporarily dazing him. The first guard was quickly felled by an efficient kick to the groin, sending him falling onto the Queen, whose head hit the floor with a satisfying _crack._ Obi-wan tackled the guard who was really Rex. With his hands bound, he could not maintain his balance and fell directly onto the disguised clone commander, who had fallen prone on his back in the melee. They were chest-to-chest.

Kenobi hurriedly whispered the coordinates to Rex. He felt for the chip in his mouth.

He could sense the other guard heading in their direction.  _A thousand pardons, Rex._ There was no time for explanations.

The Jedi gave the clone commander an awkward grimace before planting his mouth on the other man’s, transferring the chip in the process. Rex’s eyes went wide in shock, understanding, and then apology. 

The clone delivered a devastating left hook to Obi-wan.

His head rocked back and the Jedi was thrown to his side. _Rex always knew how to throw a good punch._  Obi-wan knew he and Rex had no chance of taking on Dooku in their current situation. It was far more important to keep up appearances just a bit longer to get that information off-planet, and Obi-wan was grateful that Rex had understood this in the heat of the moment.  _I - and more importantly the colonists - certainly went through enough to obtain it_ , he thought bitterly _._

“ENOUGH!” Dooku’s patience had worn thin. The darkness danced around him, pummeling Obi-wan’s shields and aggravating his already pounding head. The minor skirmish was enough to exhaust him in his current condition. “Either prove to me this man is of use or kill him now,” he snarled at the Queen, who had seemingly recovered from her encounter with the floor. _Shame,_ thought Obi-wan, with a cold, clinical detachment. 

The Count spared Obi-wan a most disapproving look. He could almost hear Dooku’s voice in his mind, chastising him.

_/Really, Master Kenobi, that was a crude strategy. I would like to know the ultimate goal of this game of yours./_

Miraj straightened and composed herself.

“You,” she pointed at Rex, “go fetch Quell. And you,” she gestured to the other guard, “go retrieve our guests. I will show the Count how we punish those who disobey!” Rex ran out the doors and Obi-wan felt a gigantic weight lift from him. No matter what happened now, the colonists could be saved. 

The Queen grasped Obi-wan by his hair and pulled his head back, coming within a breath of his face. “You _will_ submit to us, Jedi scum.” 

There was finally no longer any fear of reprisal on others for his actions. “I think not, my dear Queen,” the Jedi replied icily, raising an eyebrow in defiance. 

She immediately lashed out with the electro-whip against Obi-wan’s chest. He fell forward, re-aggravating his already tender nose, which began to bleed freely again. 

_Curse this blasted Force suppressor!_ he barked at himself. Any other situation and he’d have these binders off in a second, and this would be _over_. Obi-wan settled for righting himself into the best standing position he could with his arms still bound behind him. _I will not let this woman win._

The room was silent apart from the Jedi’s heavy breathing. Obi-wan could feel the icy presence of Dooku at the edges of his mind. 

_~Master Kenobi, end this now. Break your chains.~_ His breath hitched. _That isn’t Dooku’s voice._

The moment was broken by the arrival of the guard. “My Queen, the guests, as you requested.”

_What guests?_ Obi-wan did not like the sound of that statement. 

Miraj gave Kenobi a sly smile, walking over to him, caressing the side of his face. The Jedi pulled away with repulsion. “It seems you didn’t learn your lesson at the facility, Jedi. You will now have to repeat your studies,” she purred as she gestured to the new arrival in Governor Roshti.

Obi-wan swallowed as the Togrutan governor was brought in. _No, not after all of this. We are so close._ Defeat threatened to envelop him. He could only now buy time for Rex to reach Anakin with as little bloodshed as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's never easy for Obi-wan, is it?
> 
> Dooku and Obi-wan are going to have a little private chit-chat soon. I'm sure that will go exceedingly well. 
> 
> Chapter 12 preview: Rex is slightly flummoxed, Anakin's gone AWOL, and Ahsoka's bombs are not bombing.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy did this chapter kick my ass....

Rex moved swiftly down the corridor leading to the quarters of Lars Quell. He knew the man would not be there. If all had gone according to plan, General Skywalker and Commander Tano left the room no more than thirty minutes ago.

_ Nothing goes according to plan in war. And certainly not on this mission.  _

Not that they often ever had a plan. General Skywalker was known for his unorthodox methods and the improvisatory nature of his strategies. But at least Skywalker was predictable in his unpredictability. 

Early in the war, Cody had told him that for all of his Jedi serenity, General Kenobi could be just as radical as Skywalker. Rex hadn’t believed him at first, until he had served with Kenobi in combined missions with the 212th, and then he _understood_. It wasn’t the brilliant strategies (which often bordered on savage), the concentrated ferocity in battle (he had once watched the man jump out a _kriffing_ window with his lightsaber in order to protect his men), or an affinity for taunting the enemy that spoke of a complete disregard for his personal safety. With General Skywalker, one would expect it - he was brash, loud, and wore his emotions on his sleeve. Kenobi however, was the paragon of Jedi virtue - until he wasn't.

_That level of repression can’t be healthy_. What was that saying he had heard on Thustra? “Still waters run deep.” There was no such thing as still waters on Kamino, but he understood the concept, especially as it applied to Kenobi. He worried about the day that those waters might begin to move. It brought to mind another aphorism he had heard long ago - something about men who think too much being the most dangerous of them all.

_Kriffing hell, General, what did they do to you?_ He thought back to the scene in the Queen's quarters. It had pained Rex to see the man in that state - bloodied and on his knees in front those _chakaar,_ including that _skanah_ Dooku. Rex felt for the chip that now resided in his mouth. _I need to get this information to the Republic._

The General seemed as calm and collected as always, even when he attacked Dooku in what was an obvious distraction to get Rex that vital information. Kenobi’s...method of delivery was certainly unique. Rex briefly considered never taking off his helmet in the man’s presence again out of sheer embarrassment, but quickly dispelled the thought. He was a soldier, as was the General, and he did what needed to be done. 

_“Kenobi is a scary *verd*,”_ he once heard a shiny remark after his first day with the 212th. Rex was beginning to agree. 

The clone commander reached Quell’s quarters and knocked on the door, making a pretense of waiting for an answer he knew wasn’t coming. He entered the room and bolted the door shut behind him, activating the comm hidden on his arm. 

“General Skywalker! Come in!”

There was no response. Rex swore loudly.

“General Skywalker, this is Rex.” He spoke with increased emphasis on his words. “We have the location of the colonists. General Kenobi is here.”

Still nothing. 

_Haar'chak!_

He punched his comm again.

“Commander Tano! Are you there?”

There was static and then the hushed, anxious voice of Ahsoka. 

“Rex! What’s going on?” 

His eyebrows furrowed. “What’s happening with those bombs? We’re behind schedule!”

Rex heard a growl from the Commander. “I’m not sure. I hit the detonator, but nothing happened. I’m down here right now trying to fix them. I think the wiring may have corroded. These are pretty old.”

Rex grimaced. He was beginning to think this mission was cursed. 

“Do you know where General Skywalker is?”

“Skyguy?” She sounded surprised. “Isn’t he with you?”

“No! I tried to comm him, but got no answer. Listen, I have the location of the colonists and what I think is proof that the Zygerrians are holding them. But we’ve got a big problem, Commander. Dooku is here and General Kenobi is with him.”

He heard Ahsoka curse under her breath. “Look, I’ll get my Master. Rex, start heading towards Artoo. I should have these bombs ready to go in a few minutes - you’ll get the distraction you need.” Her voice grew serious. “We _need_ to get that intel to the Republic. Try to get a signal to Master Plo’s ship when you reach Artoo - he might still be near Felucia.”

“Understood, Commander.” _This isn’t just about the mission, this is personal. She needs to save her people._

He ended the transmission and donned his helmet, making his way down the silent corridor. Rex was closing in on the room holding Artoo when a voice called to him.

“What are you doing soldier? Aren’t you assigned to be with the Queen?”

_Kriff!_

Rex turned his head to address the Zygerrian. “I, ah - I was instructed to bring Lars Quell to her Majesty’s quarters.” _That much is true._

Rex contemplated just shooting the guard before he was hit with a sudden burst of inspiration.

_“_ But it looks like the _off-worlder_ can’t listen to instructions,” he said with as much spite as he could muster. _Also true - at least if we’re talking about General Skywalker._

The guard’s eyes went wide. “Find him.” The Zygerrian balled his fist, hissing more to himself than Rex. “I knew he couldn’t be trusted.” He pointed down the hallway in the direction of Artoo. “Check down that way. I’ll search near the exits.”

Rex nodded. At that moment, the building shook with a series of explosions. Guards came streaming down the corridor, shouting. 

_There you go, Commander._ Rex grinned and ran.

~

Ahsoka was hunkered behind a statue on the lower levels of the Zygerrian palace, processing the information that Rex had just given her. _Dooku’s here, Master Obi-wan is being held captive, and Skyguy’s missing..._ Fear, irritation, and anger all threatened to overwhelm the young Jedi.

She stood up and took a deep breath, blowing out her frustrations with her exhale. First things first - those bombs needed to detonate. Ahsoka looked around the corner and found the chamber empty. _It’s now or never._

The Togrutan Jedi ran over to the bombs, opening the small panel on the first one she found. _Yup, just like I thought - corroded wires._ It was an easy fix, but with twelve bombs scattered throughout the downstairs levels, it would take some time. She decided to fix the ones in the room she was in now and set them off - it would create enough of a distraction that she could hopefully reach the rest of the explosives without too much trouble. _And it will give Rex a chance to get that intel to the Republic._

She hit the comm on her forearm while reaching into the first device, wary of any nearby Zygerrian guards. 

“Skyguy! Where the _kriff_ are you?” 

Her Master’s voice sounded stressed amidst the sounds of battle chaos. “Ahsoka! This isn’t the best time!” 

_Obviously._ “You’re supposed to be in the palace! What’s going on?” A round of blasters went off in the background. 

“Why haven’t the bombs gone off yet?” he retorted.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m _working_ on it! The wires are corroded so I have to fix them by hand.”

“Look, I’ll be there as soon as those bombs go off. I just have...I’m just changing the plan a little bit.”

_C’mon Skyguy!_ She knew better than to be completely surprised, but Ahsoka was upset - too many lives were hanging in the balance for this to go wrong. She pounded her thigh with her fist. Ahsoka had trusted her Master this far - she needed to keep trusting him now. They could argue about it later.

“Well, you better get back here soon. Rex has the intel on the colonists.” 

She could almost feel his glee through the commlink. _And now the bad news._

“Master - Dooku’s here and _he has Obi-wan.”_

The line went silent. _Uh-oh._

“Skyguy?” 

“Listen, Ahsoka,” his voice deadly serious, “get those bombs operational. I’ll explain everything later. _Do not go after Dooku without me._ I’m on my way.”

“Wait, Skyguy - just - at least tell me where you are-”

The line was cut off. 

_Kriff!_ _I hope he knows what he’s doing._

She plunged her fingers into the last device, working as quickly as possible to fix it, trying to distract herself from her anxieties by concentrating incredibly hard on the wiring inside the bomb. A few minutes later, she was finished. She heard footsteps echoing from a nearby corridor. _Just in time, too._  Ahsoka ran out of the room, using the Force to trigger the bombs from a safe distance. 

She heard the explosions, followed by the loud crash of debris falling. _That will get those Zygerrians running._ She reached for the blaster she had hidden under her shirt, firing off a few shots, hoping to add to the ruse of the coup attempt. Ahsoka ducked behind a statue of a Zygerrian standing over a cowed slave, waiting for the guards to pass by. She shuddered, memories of the past week washing over her - _that’s the last time these sleemos will be able to lay a hand on anyone._ As she ran towards the next set of bombs, she heard someone shout, “It’s time! Molec has given the signal!”

_Perfect._

~ 

He was going to save them _all_. 

Anakin Skywalker strode through the streets of the Zygerrian city, heading for the slave pits. The Force twisted in his presence, bending, curling, distorting around the Jedi as he navigated the dusty passages.

He had been forced to leave them as a child, all of them, back on Tatooine. When he was older, he had pleaded with the Jedi Council to help him to return to free the slaves, to end the barbaric practice.

They refused every time. 

There was always an excuse - politics, manpower, the war. It was never a good enough reason for him. 

He couldn’t save the slaves he had left behind on Tatooine, not yet, but he could save those who were left on Zygerria. The colonists would be saved. Obi-wan would be saved, and no one would be left behind this time. 

Anakin raised his arms as he reached the edges of the slave pits, throwing a line of guards violently back with the Force. They crashed into a far wall, landing unconscious. He stalked through the grounds, inspecting every ditch, every prison cell, looking for life. Anakin reached out through the Force, directing its energies around him, scanning for any living creature. 

He felt no life. The slave pits were empty. 

They had all been shipped to the facility or...they were all dead. 

_No._

The Force would not give him answers. He stalked forward, full of rage, the Force echoing his emotions. _Where *were* they?_

A blaster shot ricocheted off the wall behind him. 

Anakin whipped around to see a line of blaster bolts heading towards him. He quickly jumped to side, taking cover around a corner. There was only one way into or out of the slave pits, and there were now a dozen Zygerrian guards blocking his path. 

He could kill them all - it would be so easy. _They deserve it. Slavers have no rights in this galaxy._ He imagined himself lifting his arms, the guards rising in the air -

His commlink went off. Anakin blinked, coming back to the present. A blaster bolt sailed close to his head, singeing his hair.

“Skyguy! Where the _kriff_ are you?”

He ran to the other side of the pit, using the Force to pull down debris to block the alley the guards were coming through.

“Ahsoka! This isn’t the best time!”

“You’re supposed to be in the palace! What’s going on?” He rolled his eyes.  _Not now, Ahsoka!_

He pulled out the two blasters he had concealed in his armor, firing off a series of shots at the guards who were climbing over the debris. “Why haven’t the bombs gone off yet?”

He heard her growl with impatience. “I’m _working_ on it! The wires are corroded so I have to fix them by hand.”

“Look, I’ll be there as soon as those bombs go off. I just have...I’m just changing the plan a little bit.” _More guards?_ He pushed them back with the Force. _I really wish I had my lightsaber right now._

“Well, you better get back here soon. Rex has the intel on the colonists.”

That caught his attention. He ducked another shot. _Finally!_

“Master - Dooku’s here and _he has Obi-wan.”_

_WHAT?!?_ Fear hijacked his mind. He had to get back to the palace. He had to rescue Obi-wan. He couldn’t let Dooku interfere with their plan.  _I am not losing anyone on this mission._

“Skyguy?”

_I can make short work of this._ “Listen, Ahsoka. Get those bombs operational. I’ll explain everything later. _Do not go after Dooku without me._ I’m on my way.”

“Wait, Skyguy - just - at least tell me where you are-”

He ended the transmission. 

Anakin was surrounded by the remaining guards. 

“If you like the slave pits so much, _Quell_ , why don’t you try being in one?” the Zygerrian taunted. 

He ripped their blasters away with an easy movement of the Force. The weapons scattered and fell into the pits around them.

_Oh, no, no you don’t. I’ve already played the slave once and I wasn’t too good at it._ His breathing quickened.

_~Listen to your anger.~_

Oh, yes - this wasn’t revenge, this was justice. Unarmed or not, these monsters had to be stopped - permanently. He would heed his feelings, just as he had done before as Lars Quell (and wasn’t his anger just the perfect cover for a slaver?) He would dominate them, punish them, just as he had done his first day in Zygerria at the slave auction, when he lifted his whip against -

Anakin snapped his eyes open. 

“Get him!”

The Jedi opened fire. It was over in an instant, the circle of guards having fallen over each other in a heap of flesh. 

_BOOM!_ There were a series of explosions in the distance. Anakin took one glance at the bodies and ran towards the palace, a blaster in each hand.

Both weapons were set to ‘stun.’

_Let them kill each other,_ he thought darkly. _They deserve a worse death than I can give them right now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations from Mando'a:
> 
> verd: soldier, warrior  
> chakaar: general term of abuse  
> skanah: much-hated thing or person  
> Haar'chak: damn it!
> 
> Chapter 13 preview: Obi-wan and Dooku have a conversation. The Queen is totally in over her head. Someone loses their patience.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excitement.
> 
> This is *slightly?* more violent than my other chapters? I have no idea. If you think I need to update my tags, please let me know.

“Jedi, please welcome our guest. I believe you are familiar with him already?” The Queen gestured to the Togrutan leader with a false smile.

Self-recrimination burned painfully through Obi-wan.  _Of course. How could I forget about the man whose rescue I completely botched?_ The Jedi struggled to keep his expression neutral.

“Governor,” he nodded to the Togrutan in greeting, the calm tone of his voice in stark contrast to the conflagration growing within him.

Roshti was horribly emaciated, his wounds still fresh and oozing. The Togrutan was completely defeated, not even having the energy to bring his gaze level to reply. “Please, Jedi," he barely managed the words, "our people cannot afford any more of your help.”

Obi-wan’s eyes fell. He fervently wished he could tell the Governor that his people were on the verge of rescue, that the slave colony would be liberated within a few hours. They were so tantalizingly close to ending this, and yet here he was, still at the mercy of the Zygerrians and their perverse methods of control.  He quashed the urge to scream in frustration.  _Come *on*, Anakin! Where in the galaxy are you?_

“You see, Count,” the Queen interrupted his thoughts, her voice grating on Obi-wan’s nerves, “the trick of control is to find the weakness. For most, physical pain, or the threat of it, can be enough.” To illustrate this point, she motioned to the guard, who produced an electro-whip and lashed it against the Togrutan. 

The Governor cried out and fell into a fetal position on the floor, trying to shield himself from any further blows. His pathetic whimpers echoed in the high-ceilinged room.

_Force, do they ever tire of this unremitting violence?_ Guilt threatened to overwhelm him. This was his fault - for accepting the mission, for getting captured, for...not acting to prevent this awful display.  _I should be able to stop this._

The guard lifted the electro-whip again. 

The Force turned frigid around him. _I *will* stop this._

Obi-wan rushed over, placing himself between the Zygerrian and the fallen governor. 

The Queen gave him a feral smile, signaling for the guard to stay his hand. “For others,” she pointed the hilt of her own weapon at Kenobi, “a different kind of leverage is required. The Jedi are supposedly peacekeepers, protectors of the weak and innocent. Our Master Kenobi is no different. He is more than willing to sacrifice himself, as you have just seen, but harm to others makes him more... _pliable.”_ She turned to Obi-wan, grasping his chin in her hand. “Isn’t that right, Jedi? Do tell the Count how Arguss kept you in the facility, toiling away. How you paid for your impudence with the punishment of the colonists. How _others_ will pay for your continued insolence.” She patted his cheek twice, her voice growing cold. “Submit, Jedi, unless you’d like to see the Governor have the same experience you did at the slave auction.” On cue, the guard reignited the electro-whip as Roshti let out a soft moan, still prone on the floor.

He wanted to deny it - all of it. Jedi bowed to no one, to nothing except the will of the Force.  _Except how many times have you already fallen prostrate in front of these monsters?_

Obi-wan glared at the Queen, burying that question along with the other reprobations he had amassed over the past week deep in his mind. This was a ridiculous show for Dooku. If he complied now, it would not be the end. He had learned at least that much from the facility. 

A single word echoed in his mind, one that he had not uttered in so long.

_No._

Obi-wan nearly laughed out loud. It was so easy, was it not? A simple renunciation. _I will not submit to these creatures any more. I will not, cannot submit to Dooku._

He was nearly shaking with anticipation - elation at the prospect of breaking the awful cycle of subservience alternating with the frigid waves of loathing for the woman in front of him. 

The Jedi gave the Queen a half-crazed, wicked smile, the injured Togrutan beside him nearly forgotten.

Obi-wan did not hear Governor Roshti groan behind him. He not register the snarl of detest that Queen Scintel emitted. Nor did he feel the curious waves in the Force emanating from Dooku. All he heard was the voice, the same familiar-yet-not voice that had been attempting to seduce him at every turn since his arrival on Kadavo.

_~Yes.~_

“You wait too long, Jedi,” the Queen said, betraying no emotion. “Kill the Togrutan.” 

Obi-wan whirled around just in time to witness the Zygerrian plunge a vibroblade into Roshti’s chest. The Governor gasped in response, eyes wide. Blood flowed from the gaping, gruesome wound, as the Togrutan collapsed to the floor. He wheezed, giving one last accusatory stare at the Jedi before his signature in the Force faded away.

He didn't move, couldn't move. Every muscle in his body tightened. His arms unconsciously began to pull at the binders on his wrists, as if the sheer strength of his indignation, his _anger_ , could pull them apart. 

_ ~Perhaps it can, Master Jedi. Embrace it. Free yourself.~ _

Obi-wan ignored the voice. He knew he should mourn the needless loss of life, that he should release it all into the Force, that he should find peace, not emotion.

He couldn't. 

The Jedi spared a glance at Dooku, who was eyeing him with the upmost interest. Obi-wan's stomach clenched.

He shielded all further thoughts, burying them under a layer of thick ice. Obi-wan brought his eyes to the Queen’s, voice calm, but full of lethal promise. “You _will_ regret that, Queen Scintel.”

~

Dooku considered the Jedi in front of him, the man that he had coveted for so long. Obi-wan Kenobi was fiercely intelligent, a devastating duelist, and more powerful in the Force than the man himself probably knew. If brought to his side and to his true potential, Kenobi would be a fearsome ally, and a true testament to his legacy, unlike Ventress, Savage, or any of the other fools who had been paraded in front of him since his defection to the Sith. _Certainly better than that brutish Skywalker my Master lusts after._

_So understated,_ he mused, _so unlike Qui-gon._ He felt the Jedi shroud himself in a series of icy layers, attempting to adopt a clinical indifference to his situation. _And so similar to myself in many ways._

If one didn’t look closely, didn’t delve into the narrow folds of the Force, they might assume that Kenobi was unchanged by his experience with the Zygerrians. He showed few outward emotions, no overtly angry reactions, and retained much of his Jedi composure. Dooku had to admit that the man’s control was truly exceptional. As everything with Kenobi, however, the true markers of his distress were _subtle._ A clenched fist here, a tightened jaw there, the glaze of fury that would pass over the man's eyes. For most, these would be small changes, but for Kenobi, it was the equivalent of a supernova.

_Perhaps I underestimated these Zygerrians after all._ He paused. Or perhaps it was Kenobi he underestimated - his streak of self-sacrifice, the consequence of his slavish devotion to the Jedi Code, another characteristic that warranted further investigation. Dooku suddenly found himself regretting that he hadn’t arranged to spend more time with the young Jedi on Geonosis. There was far more to this man than met the eye. 

_But even you have your limits, don't you Master Kenobi?_ _ ****Otherwise I would not be looking upon the corpse of this Governor Roshti._   _You can only repress yourself for so long, my young friend._

“My Queen, if I may...” he interrupted, gesturing at Obi-wan. Scintel gave him a disapproving sneer, but stepped aside, still looking daggers at Obi-wan. The Count came close beside Kenobi, whispering in his ear. 

“I do not approve of the use of such...crude tactics to gain your attention, Master Kenobi. Yet...I can sense your conflict.” The Sith paused to let the Jedi consider his words. “The situation can be ameliorated. I know you suspect a darker motive behind this situation on Zygerria. My offer on Geonosis still stands.” The Count could feel the hairs on Kenobi’s back stand on end. “ _You have so much power, Master Jedi, and yet you choose not to wield it. With your talents, you practically insult the Force itself by ignoring what you could be,”_ he enunciated, the words only reaching Obi-wan’s ears. Dooku lowered his voice even further, _“The Dark continues to fester at the center of the Republic. The Jedi Council - they will do nothing about this once you have achieved your objective here. What does this mission reflect of their judgement?”_ He gestured at the dead Togrutan governor. _“Do you truly believe this is the will of the Force?”_

The Count observed Kenobi closing his eyes, as if he were attempting to meditate. Dooku knew better - the man was trying to purge the words he had just heard from his mind. 

_Good._

Dooku straightened abruptly, walking away from Obi-wan. He glowered at the Queen.

“Queen Scintel. You have brought me here to Zygerria, away from my duties as the leader of the Separatist forces, for a _charade_. I believe Obi-wan Kenobi is no more cowed now than he was a ten-day ago when he was brought into your facilities. This ‘Lars Quell’ you speak of has yet to materialize, and all I have to show for this is a backlog of paperwork and a dead Togrutan governor." 

“He WILL submit!” she practically screamed, pointing the electro-whip hilt at Kenobi. 

"I'm sorry, my Queen, but there will be no further arrangement with the Separatist government. Keep your colonists, and keep your Jedi for all I care, but any further deal is _off._ ”  _Now we shall see how matters unfold._

Panic rose in the face of the Zygerrian Queen. She was losing her advantage. “No! He will be cowed! Guards, bring them in!”

Count Dooku heard weeping from behind the thick, ornate wooden doors. Two small Togrutan children were ushered in by the Zygerrians, their Force signatures pulsating with fear and panic. The Sith Lord saw the color drain from the Jedi’s face as the younglings were brought in, his eyes turning a dark shade of grey as the young man stared in horror at the Queen. The Zygerrians were playing their final hand. He only hoped it would play into his own. 

~

They were the same younglings, the ones from the facility. The ones that Arguss had already tortured, mentally, if not physically. This had to have been Arguss's idea - it screamed of his twisted mind. A parting gift to the Jedi, one more reminder of his stay on Kadavo. He seethed, the shadows of the Force twisting unnaturally around him.

Obi-wan quickly buried his emotions under the icy shields he had constructed. He could not fall prey to his anger, not now. It was time for the truth, or at least a part of it. 

“This is cruel and unnecessary, Miraj." His voice harsher than he had intended. "This has gone far enough. The Republic is on its way, and your slave empire ambitions will be thwarted.” He stepped forward, bringing his face directly in line with hers. "Give up now. You cannot win. Do not debase yourself so much as to harm innocent children."

A small series of tremors rocked the palace. _Bombs?_ The Queen turned to the window, her eyes wide. She pointed at the guards. "You two - stay here! The rest of you - go find out what that was. I want answers  _immediately!_ " 

The Queen rounded on him, a crazed look on her face. “You will NOT undermine the new Zygerrian empire, Jedi! Submit to me now, or watch them join him!” she waved her hand in the direction of the dead governor.

"I will do no such thing and you will not harm these children!" his voice rose as he placed himself in front the two younglings, cursing his restraints.  _I will do what I must to protect them._

"GUARDS! Secure the Jedi!" she roared. Another tremor hit the palace and the Queen shrieked in anger.

He fought them, but it was not enough. Obi-wan managed to land a few blows on the Zygerrians before he felt a devastating hit to his abdomen. He curled over in pain, only to receive another punch to his face, causing his nose to bleed yet again. With his hands bound, his energy depleted, and the Force distant, the Jedi stood no chance. He was roughly secured from behind by one of the guards while the other stalked towards the young Togrutans, who were frozen in place by fear. He saw the Zygerrian unsheathe a vibroblade.

_Nonononono. Please no. Oh Force._ He struggled against the Zygerrian holding him, only to earn a foot to the back of his knee. The Jedi half-collapsed, but was held steady by the burly guard. 

The Force cried along with the children. Obi-wan wished he could cover his ears, to block out the horrible sound. “You do not want to do this!” he warned, not caring if he was pleading anymore.  _Please!_

The Queen merely gave a signal. The Force screamed, cutting through his mind like lightsaber through flesh. He doubled over in pain, wishing he could move his arms to shield his ears and his eyes. He saw a pool of blood surrounding a young prone body on the floor. The other child wailed. The edges of his vision flitted in red, the protections surrounding his mind shuddered. 

_~Act, Kenobi!~_

_But how?_

_~You know how.~_

The Queen wrenched the bloody weapon from the Zygerrian guard, and came to face the Jedi, wiping the child's blood on Obi-wan's robes. “Not willing to submit yet, Jedi? Their blood is on your hands.” Scintel's ragged voice was a harbinger of death and destruction. “I will kill every child in the facility, one by one, until you are under my control! I will mark you with their blood and you will live with their deaths over your head for the rest of your days.” 

She turned back to the guard. "Secure the second!" The Zygerrian immediately caught the young Togrutan, who had tried to flee, bringing her directly in front of Obi-wan. The Queen took the blade in her hand, smiling at Kenobi. "Anything you'd like to say, Master Jedi?" She raised the blade and the child screamed in terror.

_"ENOUGH!"_

The deep icy cover of Obi-wan's mind splintered into a million pieces, its shards penetrating the very essence of his Force signature. He bled. He bled fear, anger, and violence. He bled loss - the loss of the children, of Governor Roshti, the loss of everyone he had ever held dear. He bled vengeance - an unholy retribution on those who had stolen so much from him. He bled hate - an inky black that swallowed its victims whole, whose first target was not a mortal enemy but himself. He saw the icy fragments take flight, piercing the vague shapes hovering at the edges of his mind. He felt elation. He felt _freedom._ The Force sang.

_~Finally, your chains are broken!~_ purred the insidious voice that he now recognized as his own.

He felt the Force in its full power for the first time in a ten-day.

And then it was over.

The Jedi cried out, steadying himself on an overturned chair. The room of the palace was deadly silent, with only the faint reverberations of explosives and shouting in the distance. He paid it no mind.

Obi-wan opened his eyes and wished he never had. The bodies of the Queen and the guards were splayed near opposite walls of the room, necks obviously broken, their heads resting at unnatural angles. Governor Roshti and the young Togrutan child remained lifeless in front of him. 

He heard muffled crying - the second child was still alive, hiding behind a curtain. Obi-wan strode towards her, arm outstretched and hand open. Her eyes widened in fear. “Nononono!” she whimpered as she ran out the open door, fleeing in terror from the Jedi.

He stood still in the middle of the room, taking in the devastating scene, incapable of further thought or action. The waves of the Force were nauseating, and for a moment he thought he might expel the entire contents of his stomach on the floor. He was trembling - sick, feverish. _What - what happened?_

Someone approached him from behind, gently placing one hand on each of his shoulders. Qui-gon had done that often when he was younger, when the stress of their missions had overwhelmed him, when his emotions had threatened to get the better of him. Obi-wan never complained, never asked for the reassurance - but Qui-gon knew, more often than not, when he needed that anchor. It was a comforting gesture, one that spoke of safety, of belonging in a way he hadn’t felt in years. He almost expected to hear the deep voice of his Master any second now - easing his fears, soothing his thoughts. He leaned into the movement ever so slightly.

“Well done, Master Kenobi.”

_Oh gods._

Obi-wan’s body froze as he was pulled unceremoniously back to the present. The binders and collar that had held him for so long were gone, crumpled in a mess of metal on the floor beside him. The Force swirled around him in its full glory, heat and cold, sun and snow. He groaned. 

Not for the first time that day, he fell to his knees, one hand on the floor supporting himself, the other one wrapping around his abdomen. His body recoiled at the dark, slippery manifestation of the Force that wrapped itself around him. Obi-wan turned his head and vomited, unable to control his violent reaction. 

The Jedi turned his head to the Sith behind him. “What did you _do_ , Dooku?” he managed to choke out.

Neither Dooku’s voice or face betrayed his feelings, but Obi-wan could swear that he felt the waves of _approval_ rolling off the Sith lord. “Nothing at all, Master Kenobi.” He knelt down next to Obi-wan, taking his chin in one hand while picking a silken handkerchief out of his pocket with the other. The older man began to gently clean the vomit and blood from Kenobi’s face while speaking. “But I must thank you for a job well done. The Queen had long outlived her usefulness, and I cannot afford to be seen having any connections to this barbaric planet.”

“You killed them all,” he accused, pulling his face away.

Dooku smiled, reaching forward again and smoothing out Obi-wan’s hair. “Not at all, my young friend. And even if that _were_ the case, can you honestly say you are saddened by this turn of events?”

Obi-wan closed his eyes, still feeling Dooku’s fingers in his hair. _No, you bastard, of course not._ He clenched his fist.

“Revenge is not the Jedi way.”

Dooku chuckled. “Of course, Master Kenobi.” The shouts and explosions that had been so far away a few minutes ago now grew closer.

The Count stood. “I have no doubt that ‘Lars Quell’ and his friends will be here shortly. I will leave these meddlesome Zygerrians to use their energies to fight against each other. The Republic will ignore this planet and the Jedi Council will do nothing about the slave trade, and all will return to how it was a mere few weeks ago.” 

Kenobi stiffened as Dooku stepped forward, looking down at him on his knees for the second time today. He stifled the urge to vomit again. 

“Well, nearly everything,” the Sith added, eyeing Kenobi hungrily.

Obi-wan could only spare Dooku an angry glance.

The Count smiled at Obi-wan. “I will be waiting for you when you are ready, Master Kenobi.” 

And with that, Count Dooku simply turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

~

The loss of the Zygerrian slaving colony was a minor inconvenience.

He had known all along of the disguised clone in the room, of the presence of _Skywalker_ and his young apprentice on the planet.

None of that truly mattered. _Let the Jedi have their hollow victory. The Republic will never investigate Zygerria, the Jedi Council will not interfere - they will be right back where they started within six months._

He smiled. _Just think, Master Kenobi - all of that, for essentially naught?_

It had only taken the man half a minute. He was cold, efficient, and ruthless. 

_And he will eventually kneel before me of his own volition._

He reached into the Force, feeling for its currents. 

Change was coming. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making good on my early warning that I enjoy corrupting "good and pure" characters. 
> 
> Chapter 14 preview: Anakin, Ahsoka and Rex finally reunite with Obi-wan. Things get awkward.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gang gets back together. I'm sure it will be smooth and no one will be trying to suppress their emotions or tell any kind of half-truth...

Anakin raced up the stairs to the main room after bouldering through a group guards like a wild force of nature. Ahsoka was close behind him, struggling to keep up with the frantic pace. Stealth was out of the question now - not with the palace in a scene of barely controlled chaos. Not when both Anakin and Ahsoka had felt the violent, dark surge in the Force moments after they met at the room where Artoo and Rex were. They had given each other a wide-eyed look, not even needing to exchange words. Something terrible had happened. Anakin had thought he felt Obi-wan’s Force signature flare momentarily - but it was twisted, somehow _wrong_. But it was over in a second, and Anakin couldn't say for certain that it had been his former master at all. 

_I am going to kill Dooku._ All thoughts of the Queen, of the Zygerrians, were forgotten in his single-minded purpose of _saving Obi-wan._ He reached for his lightsaber, igniting it in his hand as they reached the place where the nexus of the Force explosion had been, stopping short at the entrance to the room where he had first taken the whip from Miraj’s hand. 

Anakin’s breath caught - it was a scene of complete carnage. The sumptuous chamber was a mess of overturned furniture and ripped drapery.Blood and dirt stained the once immaculate floor, evidence of a brutal confrontation. Slumped against opposite walls were the bodies of two Zygerrian guards and the Queen herself, limbs askew in a most unnatural position, neck obviously broken. She stared sightlessly upon her crumbling empire.

_Good riddance,_ thought Anakin. 

The Jedi scanned the area for any sign of Dooku, but it seemed that the Sith lord had made his escape before they arrived on the scene. Anakin switched off his lightsaber with a scowl - once again, Dooku had evaded them. _At least those Zygerrian scum seem intent on killing each other now._ As if on cue, another explosion rocked the building, and blaster fire erupted in the arena below them. 

“Master...” he heard a deep sadness in Ahsoka’s voice. He walked over to where his Padawan was to find not only the body of Governor Roshti, but a small Togrutan child. Both had been stabbed in the midsection with a vibroblade. Gutted, really. The bodies were swimming in their own blood. Anakin’s anger resurfaced -  _who could possibly do this to a child?_

Ahsoka cradled the head of the dead youngling.

“Oh, Ahsoka. I am so sorry.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder as he felt her struggle to maintain the Jedi composure and serenity that he would not have exhibited, had their roles been reversed. 

“Are the Zygerrians truly that cruel, to slay a defenseless child?” she asked, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

Anakin opened his mouth to respond, but could not seem to find the words to express his mixture of anger, outrage, and sadness.  

“That appears to be the case.” A familiar voice answered from the back of the room, nearly monotone in its delivery.

Anakin stood up immediately, looking for the source of the statement. 

“Master Obi-wan?” Ahsoka inquired tentatively.

He was sitting on the edge of a raised platform, hunched over - elbows on his knees, head slightly bowed, eyes closed - seemingly oblivious to the chaos around him. _What the kriffing hell, Obi-wan?_

Anakin walked towards the older man, slowly and with some trepidation. He could barely make out his Master‘s signature in the Force, it was so muted. Anakin realized there was no suppressor at work this time - Obi-wan was concealing himself.  _Something's not right..._

Anakin grimaced as he approached the older man. _Force, he looks terrible._

Obi-wan’s tunics were in tatters. Anakin had noted their disturbed state when they had last met at the slave auction (a memory he had _no_ desire to revisit at the moment), but even in a ten-day span, the robes were dirtier, more torn, and... _covered in stains of fresh blood_? He wasn’t sure which was more alarming - the possibility that the bloodstains came from Obi-wan himself or from the two dead Togrutans nearby. 

His former master's face was mottled with bruises and unhealed cuts, his hands covered in dirt and dried blood. Obi-wan's wrists were both severely chafed, bleeding from what was probably the set of nearly-destroyed binders he had noticed lying in the middle of the floor. Anakin knew that there were probably more injuries that Obi-wan had sustained that he _couldn’t_ see than ones he could at the moment.

He tried reached out to Obi-wan through their bond, but was met with shields of nearly adamantine strength. If he tried to obscure his presence any more, Obi-wan would be a literal void in the Force. A flicker of annoyance passed through Anakin. _Why is he shutting me out?_

“Master,” Anakin began tentatively, “what happened? Where’s Dooku? Rex said you were being held captive here,” his voice rising with each question. 

Obi-wan sighed, opening his eyes and running his hand over his face. 

Anakin observed his former Master wince noticeably when his hand passed over his nose, which upon further observation looked off-kilter. _Kark_ _, did they break your nose, too?_ “It seems there was a disagreement between Count Dooku and the Queen.” Obi-wan gestured to the fallen Queen at the side of the room.

_Really, Master?_ Anakin shot him a dirty look. “It _seems_ like there was a disagreement?”

Ahsoka called over, “It looks like she was strangled, same as the guards over there,” pointing to the other side of the room where the two Zygerrians lay.

“Strangled?” Anakin asked darkly, turning his gaze back on Obi-wan.

“Count Dooku _is_ a Sith, Anakin,” sniped Kenobi. “You oughtn't be surprised that he might rely on such tactics.”

“You mean they were Force-choked.” Anakin shook his head, not quite understanding. “But - I thought Dooku and the Queen were in league together.” He looked down. “Not that I’m horribly disappointed,” Anakin added under his breath.

“Anakin!” Obi-wan admonished, a bit too harshly. “The Queen was attempting to gain the upper hand in negotiations with the Separatists.” He stood up, Anakin noticing his former Master’s slight pitch forward before he regained his balance. “From the evidence presented to us here, it seems that negotiations failed.”

“The evidence presented to us?” Anakin was incredulous. “You were _in_ the room, Master! How could you not know what happened?” 

Obi-wan grimaced. “Indeed, how could I not?” he asked more to himself than anyone else, directing his gaze out the window.

Both Anakin and Ahsoka waited for Obi-wan to continue, to provide some kind of explanation for the mess of bodies in the room. None was forthcoming, however, and the silence stretched further than Anakin had patience for. _Fine, we’ll come back to *that* question later!_ He let out an audible, frustrated sigh. 

“And the Togrutan governor? The child? Just - ” he searched for the words, “Why?”

Anakin could have sworn he saw an uncharacteristic darkness pass over his former Master’s face. 

“They were present to be used as...leverage...against me. The Queen had certain ill-conceived plans regarding enslaving Jedi, and wished to illustrate her point with me in front of Dooku. Obviously, not all went according to her plan.”

_What?!?_ Anakin’s eyebrows shot up and he clenched both fists.

“Master, what-”

At that exact moment Rex barreled in, several large weapons hanging off his body and two large blasters in his hands.

“Sirs. I’ve just received word that the colonists have been successfully evacuated from Kadavo. There’s a shuttle on its way to pick us up. The Zygerrians are blasting each other to bits in the hallways.” He gave them a crooked grin. “This would be a very good time to get to the rendezvous point.”

“Excellent,” replied Obi-wan, his voice suddenly taking on an incongruent light tone that sounded more like he was being summoned to dinner than escaping from enslavement. He stepped forward only to nearly fall over, catching himself on a piece of what once was a divan. 

“Master Obi-wan, do you need some help?” asked Ahsoka, quickly moving to his side.

“No, no. I’m quite alright, thank you, Ahsoka,” he replied hoarsely. Obi-wan waved her off.

_Bantha-shit, Master._ “Alright, Obi-wan, come on.” Anakin began to wrap his arm around Obi-wan’s waist to support him.

“Anakin, please, I am _fine.”_ Obi-wan insisted, voice gaining strength as he wriggled away from Anakin's touch.

“Obi-wan, you’re obviously not _fine_ , you can barely walk! Come on, just let me help you out of here!” Anakin’s temper was rising. _Stop being such a kriffing gundark!_

“Anakin!” his voice sharp, “I can walk perfectly well on my own.” Anakin could have sworn he saw a sneer on his former Master’s face. 

_Oh no, you don't,_ Anakin thought.  _I am not letting you pull this kark again._  “Kriffing hell, Obi-wan-” he reached out once more-

And found his wrist in a vise-like grip, inches away from Obi-wan's shoulder.

“Anakin, I said _no!_ For Force’s sake, please _listen_ to me for once!” Obi-wan yelled.

Anakin, Ahsoka, and Rex could only stare at Obi-wan, eyes wide. No one was able to speak. Any anger that had been building in Anakin was overwritten by pure shock. 

“Lead the way, Rex.” Anakin could only mutter as he walked forward, now free of his former master's grip. He threw a glance back to Obi-wan, who was limping along with the group, now a veritable black hole in the Force.  _We are not through talking about this, Master._

The shouts of the Zygerrians could be heard through the palace as the quartet advanced to the pick-up point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, then - perhaps not.
> 
> Chapter 15 preview: There is even more awkwardness on the ride back to Coruscant. Obi-wan does not want to deal. Anakin wants to punch things. Ahsoka and Rex want to drink some caf.
> 
> For those of you wondering how I'm going to wrap this all up in 3 chapters - I'm not. *This* story will end with Chapter 17, but I have a far longer arc planned for all of this which I'll give more details about at the conclusion of this particular story.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heading towards the end (of this story!) Should be pumping out a chapter a day at this point :)

The rendezvous with the Republic cruiser was surprisingly smooth. With the Queen dead, the Zygerrians were far more concerned with fighting each other rather than looking for three rogue Jedi and a clone trooper. Once on board, Anakin had argued for an immediate occupation of the planet - that would at least put a stop to the barbaric slave practices. But Master Plo told him that even this rescue was stretching the bounds of what they were authorized to do by the Republic.

“But Master Plo, there are still people down there! And the Zygerrians - they did terrible things! To Master Obi-wan! Dooku was there!” Ahsoka had pleaded while Anakin stood behind her, arms crossed, a dark scowl on his face. 

Plo Koon was sympathetic, but he had done all he felt he could. When he had received the transmission from Rex, he had immediately mobilized his forces ahead of getting the official authorization from Chancellor Palpatine, knowing that time was of the essence. The Chancellor was only willing to authorize the rescue of the Togrutans under emergency order - he did not want any direct involvement in Zygerria, fearing that they would be drawn into a quagmire that had nothing to do with the war at hand, and did not want to bring the issue in front of the Senate. The entire affair was to be kept very _hush-hush_. The public ill-will towards the Jedi was just beginning to abate, and any report of them infiltrating a neutral planet would no doubt stoke the fires of controversy once again.

At least two walls of the ship now had noticeable, fist-sized dents. Neither Ahsoka or Obi-wan said a word.

In fact, his former master wasn’t saying much of anything to anyone. His report to the Jedi Council via holo-transmission outlined the very basic facts - his capture, the existence of the Kadavo processing center, and the failed bargain between Queen Miraj and Dooku. Obi-wan promised the Council a full report upon returning to Coruscant, but Anakin somehow doubted there would much more information coming from the reticent Jedi Master.

Anakin had spent the better part of a day trying to pin down Obi-wan, if for nothing else than to get the man some much needed medical attention. But Star Destroyers _were_ quite large and with Obi-wan still hiding himself in the Force, it was proving incredibly difficult to locate his former master. It wasn’t the first time Obi-wan had sequestered himself after a difficult mission, but somehow this felt different. There was so much he _didn’t_ know about what transpired on Zygerria, on Kadavo. He couldn’t quite get the image of Obi-wan sitting, unmoving in a room of dead bodies out of his head, nor could he completely forget the odd surges in the Force that both he and Ahsoka had felt in the palace. 

He had considered recruiting some of the clones to help him locate Obi-wan on board the cruiser, but thought better of the idea. Anakin wasn’t completely sure he was ready to confront his former master yet - not after the incident at the slave auction, and certainly not after Obi-wan had blown up at him as they left the palace. 

_He was hurt - stressed by...whatever they had done to him._ But Anakin knew it was more than that - Obi-wan _never_ lost his temper in that way.

He tried to push his worries aside. 

Too restless to sleep, Anakin had taken to roaming the cruiser in the early morning hours. He was not all that surprised to find both Rex and Ahsoka in the canteen, sitting with cups of caf, staring at nothing at all. 

“Hey Snips, Rex.” Anakin took a mug of caf himself, and sat down next to his Padawan. 

Rex merely nodded at his arrival and Ahsoka murmured a half-hearted hello into her cup.

_Might as well be miserable together._

They sat in silence for quite some time, each lost in their own thoughts, the gentle whirring of the engines providing a hypnotic backdrop to their introspection. Ahsoka was the first to speak.

“How - how are you Master?” 

“Me, Snips?” Anakin sighed. _Fine_ , he wanted to say. _Nothing’s wrong - I just spent a week being a slaver, I whipped my former master, I allowed you to be manhandled by those Zygerrian sleemos, Dooku escaped, and Obi-wan is acting like...I don’t even know what he’s acting like._

“Tired,” was the only word that came out of the Jedi Knight’s mouth. _So, so tired._ “What about you? You’re okay, right? You weren’t lying to me when you said that no one had...” he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

His young apprentice seemed to curl into herself. _Gods, she is too young for all of this_ , he thought. 

“I knew going into this mission that it wasn’t going to be pleasant,” she began, “but I just didn’t think - slavery is _awful_ , Master. And while I’m glad we could rescue the colonists, we still weren’t able to stop all the operations on Zygerria. There are so many others out there who need our help. So many we left on-planet. I can’t...” she looked down at her cup, “I can’t get the memory of that poor child out of my head.” The young Togrutan bit her lip.

Anakin put his hand on her shoulder. 

Ahsoka took a large breath, steadying herself. “I...I felt powerless, Master. To see _my_ people treated like that and not be able to do anything - it goes everything we were taught as Jedi! There must have been another way!” she exclaimed.

Anakin agreed. The Council was _wrong_ , so wrong, in the way they handled the Zygerria situation. Sending them in undercover, sending _him_ in undercover. They had more than enough evidence to mount a full campaign against the planet without needing to resort to all that subterfuge. _Who cares about the Holonet and the political climate?_  And what did they end up with? One data chip, a civil war they couldn’t admit to starting, and the word of a single Jedi and clone captain that the leader of the Separatists was really involved in all of this.

The whole thing was a mess.

Anakin curled his mechanical fist. He lost track of the politics involved that _somehow_ managed to keep Zygerria neutral, that allowed them to evade Republic occupation, even now. Zygerria practiced slavery, and needed to be stopped. End of story. _I need to talk to Padmé about this when we get back._ He might not be able to navigate the politics of this situation, but his wife could. 

“I know, Snips. I know." His voice tightened. "But - what’s...done is done.” He hated himself for saying that, for just capitulating to the situation. But there _was_ nothing they could do right now, trapped on a Republic cruiser, in hyperspace. And they _had_ achieved their objective of rescuing the Togrutan colonists. 

It was a hollow victory, to be sure.

She gave him a half-smile. It wasn't the answer either of them wanted to hear, but he couldn't offer her anything better at the moment.

Silence settled over the trio once more. Anakin could sense Ahsoka had more questions, more she wanted to say, to talk about. 

_/Out with it, Snips./_

“Have you seen -” she seemed reticent to broach the subject. “Have you seen Master Obi-wan?”

Anakin’s stomach clenched. He had hoped to avoid this topic, but it was such a glaring issue that he knew he couldn’t hide from it forever. Both Ahsoka and Rex had witnessed Obi-wan’s outburst at him at the palace. Had watched him... _hurt_ his master in the arena. He was ashamed of it all, still angry at Obi-wan for his now obvious manipulation, for his absolute refusal to talk about anything that had transpired on Kadavo or Zygerria beyond the very basic facts. He found himself unconsciously gritting his teeth.

“I - I haven’t talked to him, not since we gave our preliminary report to the Council. He’s been - “ _Hiding? Avoiding me?_ “...difficult to locate.”

“I’m worried about him, Skyguy.” Even though Anakin was her master, he knew she secretly considered Obi-wan to be her almost-second master. The three of them certainly spent enough time together on missions, and Obi-wan had always been generous with his advice and wisdom whenever she had a question, and often when she didn’t. When he wasn't annoyed at Obi-wan for butting in, Anakin secretly enjoyed his former master's involvement in his Padawan's training.  

“I heard...rumors from the surviving Togrutans.” 

“Rumors, Snips?” asked Anakin, uncertain as to where this conversation was going, but not liking the sound of it.

“Master Obi-wan was there with them, you know, on Kadavo. They didn’t talk much about the processing facility itself. But - from what they told me, it was _horrible._ Just...just working for no reason, all day, in some kind of mining facility. They couldn’t talk, couldn’t stop working - or else they’d be beaten.”

Anakin felt sick to his stomach. 

“They said - they said that if Obi-wan did anything the Zygerrians didn’t like - they’d take it out on a colonist. If he tried to help them, they would be beaten. They’re terrified of the Jedi, Master! I’m not even sure if they’ll accept our help to relocate their colony!”

_That...that can’t be possible. Could it?_ _Kriff, Obi-wan, you could talk to someone about this!_

“Are - are you sure, Snips? I mean, that’s - “ _That’s what, Skywalker?_

“Begging your pardon sir, but - “ Rex stopped mid-sentence, seeing the look of absolute dismay of Anakin’s face. 

“Keep going, Rex. The more we know, the better.” 

Rex showed an expression somewhere between detest and chagrin. “When I was in the room with Dooku and the Queen, they brought in General Kenobi. Made him bow down to them on his knees. They talked a lot about ways of making him comply - ways that had apparently been successful in the past.” 

Anakin banged his fist on the table, getting halfway up out of his seat.

“Sir!” Rex interjected quickly, holding up his hand. “General Kenobi didn’t seem too cowed to me. He was his - you know how he likes to talk to his enemies - his usual self. That’s when he made some crazy diversion and got me the intel on Kadavo. I don’t know what happened after that." Anakin slowly sat down. "Must’ve been real bad, though," Rex added, as an afterthought. 

_Just more details that Obi-wan conveniently forgot to mention._

Anakin ran his mechanical hand through his hair. “Alright, you guys. We have a lot of rumors going around here. Snips - keep talking to the colonists. Get Master Plo to help you if you need. Rex, do you know what happened to that chip?”

Rex shook his head. “No idea, sir. I imagine the General sent the data directly to the Supreme Chancellor.”

“Right. I’ll talk to Master Plo, see if I can get a hold of that data. Maybe we’ll start getting some answers that way.”

_And maybe you’ll start explaining some things, Obi-wan._

Anakin stood up. “I - I need to go for a walk.” Neither Rex or Ahsoka acknowledged the loud yell and crash they heard in the hallway just minutes after Anakin left the canteen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive use of your energies, Anakin. 
> 
> Chapter 16 preview: Our favorite duo reports to the Council. Anakin feels like some important things are being left out. Obi-wan disagrees. Mace Windu is so done.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The collection of half-truths and hyperbole known as Obi-wan Kenobi..."

The remainder of the trip back to Coruscant was a dour affair. Anakin brooded while looking out the viewport into the monotony of hyperspace. He distracted himself with fixing non-essential parts of the ship, including several dents that he had been the cause of. He watched Rex and Ahsoka play a half-hearted game of _dejarik_ , not even having the energy to try and give Ahsoka what was usually unhelpful advice.  
****

Obi-wan had finally appeared, but immediately holed himself up in his quarters for what he called “extensive meditation.” He was even snippier than usual, if that was possible, when anyone tried to engage him in conversation. In what was a bizarre reversal of their usual roles, Anakin was hesitant to talk to the Jedi Master, lest he set off the man’s temper.

Reporting to the Jedi Council was almost a relief. 

“So to summarize, Masters,” Anakin looked around the room as Obi-wan spoke, “the Zygerrians were attempting to re-establish their slave empire by working with Dooku and the Separatists in an economic partnership. Their Queen, however, overstepped her bounds with Dooku and was...eliminated from the negotiations. Without their monarchy in place, and with the civil strife on the planet, it will take some time for the Zygerrians to recover, especially with the Kadavo processing center destroyed. I do not think we will have to worry about the Separatists shuttling off more colonies to be enslaved in the near future, but it might not be a poor idea to...monitor their activities in that regard.”

The Council members looked at one another, betraying little on their faces. 

“Why would Dooku suddenly turn on the Zygerrian monarchy?” Mace Windu asked.

Anakin shot a glance at Obi-wan. _Maybe we’ll start getting some answers._

“From what I could gather, the Queen hoped to use the Zygerrian processing...” Obi-wan paused for a moment, “methods to create slave armies to be sold back to the Separatists. Her ambitions for the program outgrew the original agreement. I imagine this did not sit well with the Count, who already to had to keep his interactions with Zygerria secret due to the possible political fallout. If I were Dooku, I would consider the Queen to be quite a liability.”

_Did the temperature just drop in here considerably?_ Anakin wondered.

“Anything more to add, hmmmm?” Yoda seemed to sense the shift in the Force as well. 

Obi-wan hesitated for a moment. “It seemed that the Zygerrians still harbored some ill feelings towards the Jedi for our destruction of their former slave empire. The Queen and her people had been developing methods for,” Obi-wan’s face betrayed a look of disgust, " _subjugating_ Jedi. She wished to illustrate this point in front of Dooku.” Obi-wan looked down, voice darkening. “The attempt was not successful. As I said before, Dooku did not want to risk exposure, and with a Jedi involved, I imagine it was more expedient to eliminate the Queen and allow the planet to fall into chaos.”

Anakin turned to his former Master in disbelief, speaking up for the first time since he had delivered his version of the events on Zygerria. “And who was the Jedi that was used to illustrate this point, _Master?”_

“Skywalker!” Mace Windu interjected. 

“No! He’s been holed up in his quarters for the past three days. Rex, Ahsoka and I found him just...sitting in a room full of dead bodies. The Zygerrians used the Togrutans as leverage against him in the Kadavo camp, punishing them for his -” Anakin searched for the right word, “disobedience. He demanded that I whip him in front of an arena of _sleemo_ slave buyers to keep our cover!” Anakin’s voice rose higher. “I will not let him or the Council pass this off as nothing! We never should have been undercover like that! How could you - just -” Anakin’s words began to fail him as his emotions took hold of his thoughts, rendering him inarticulate. 

The Council room stood still and Anakin could feel the cold stare of him former Master boring into him. _I couldn’t help you before, Obi-wan, but I can kriffing well help you now._

“True, this is, Master Kenobi?” Yoda asked, his voice simple but his gaze penetrating the younger Jedi Master.

“What Anakin has so,” and here Obi-wan shot his former Padawan a decidedly dirty look, “ _eloquently_ stated is the basic truth, yes. We were forced into a situation on Zygerria through my own carelessness that necessitated that Anakin prove his cover as a slaver by...doting out a suitable punishment, as requested by the Queen.” Obi-wan’s voice softened ever so slightly. “I do not hold him responsible for my injuries. It was my decision as the ranking Jedi Master on this mission and I applaud his ability to, _for once_ , follow orders.”

“As to the rest - “ Obi-wan sighed, “Miraj and the Zygerrians administered a mild Force suppressant to me during my time on Kadavo, and my abilities were hindered due to that and my injuries. The Zygerrians did manage to ensure my...temporary cooperation...by utilizing the Togrutans as a kind of leverage. Luckily, the Queen was arrogant enough to believe that I was fully under control and brought me before Dooku. By that point I had gathered enough information about the location of Kadavo and passed it onto to Rex while creating a distraction.” Obi-wan stopped, and the entire room waited on his next words.

“This occurred around the same time as the beginnings of the internal strife in the city. Dooku unfortunately knows me well enough by now - he could easily see that I was in no way under anyone’s real control. It is my belief that Dooku killed the Queen and some guards in the resulting chaos and escaped off-planet.”

“And why didn’t Dooku just kill you, Master?” Anakin knew there was still more to this.

Obi-wan swallowed, his voice cracking ever so slightly. “I - I do not know.”

“But Master - “

“Enough, Skywalker!” Mace Windu exclaimed. 

Anakin huffed, but knew well enough to keep his mouth shut, at least for now. 

Windu sat back in his chair. “As far as the Council is concerned, this mission is a success. The Togrutan colonists were rescued. With the exception of Master Kenobi, you all somehow managed to not blow your covers, and we were able to resolve this without the direct involvement of the Senate. Master Plo and Padawan Tano will work with the colonists to help with their relocation." Mace pointed his finger at Obi-wan. "Master Kenobi, I’m _ordering_ you to the healers, effective immediately. Skywalker, make sure he actually gets there this time. Both of you are dismissed.”

“Thank you, Masters,” replied Obi-wan, turning to exit the room with Anakin close on his heels. Anakin could only give the Council one last look of reproach before catching up to his former master.

_You’re not getting away from me this time, Master._

Not one word, not one glance passed between Anakin and Obi-wan as they walked down the grand hallways of the Temple. The tension between them, however, was thick as a Tatooine sandstorm. Anakin’s questions, his worries, battered against the still heavily-shielded Jedi Master. As they approached the corridor that led to the healers, Anakin slowed down to turn the corner.

Obi-wan merely gave his former student a dark look and strode on past him, down a separate hallway leading to his own quarters. 

“Obi-wan!” he called out. 

The Jedi Master ignored him, picking up his pace as much as he could, still limping slightly. 

_E chu ta!_

Anakin jogged to catch up to Obi-wan, planting himself directly in front of the Jedi Master, glowering at him. _You are *not* going anywhere._

Obi-wan let out a deep sigh, looked down for a moment, and then raised his head to Anakin. “What _is_ it Anakin?” Weariness permeated every word of the question.

“You missed the turn to the healers.”

Obi-wan merely raised an eyebrow at his former Padawan. “Yes, I am aware. I can assure both you and them that I don’t need to subject myself to their tender ministrations at this time.” He made to walk around his former apprentice but Anakin immediately outstretched his arm to the man’s shoulder to stop him. 

“We need to talk, Obi-wan. There’s something...different about you. Something’s wrong. I know more happened on Zygerria than you’re telling the Council. Telling me.”

The shorter Jedi master pulled his mouth into a grimace.

“What more would you know?” he asked coldly. "Every excruciating detail of my week on Kadavo? Please forgive me if I have little desire to relive that at the moment."

Anakin’s stare bored into his friend. “We _could_ have avoided that. Why did you let me do - _that_ to you at the slave auction?”

Obi-wan’s eyes tightened. “We needed to keep our covers intact, and you were about three seconds away from going directly against my orders.”

Anakin’s temper flared. “Maybe because I thought there was a better way than _whipping my best friend!_ ” 

The Jedi Master gave a dark laugh, “Oh yes, exposing ourselves in front of all of those Zygerrians while I was under the influence of a Force suppressor was going to be a guaranteed success, I’m sure.”

Obi-wan’s sarcasm grated on the young Jedi Knight. “Oh yeah, and what actually happened was so much better. You took advantage of me being angry!”

“You allowed your emotions to rule you at a critical point in our mission!”

They were mere inches from each other’s faces, both Jedi trying to stare down the other. 

Anakin broke his gaze first, still trying to reach out through the Force to his former master - still being rebuffed by his impervious shields. 

“Obi-wan - “ he began, “why are you shutting me out?”

Surprise registered on the older Jedi’s face. 

“Anakin,” his voice softened. Obi-wan looked up at the ceiling for a moment, as if all the answers to the universe were held there. “I will not deny that the past few weeks have been...trying. “ He turned his gaze back to his former apprentice.

“Obi-wan, what _happened?_ All I’ve heard are horrible rumors coming from the colonists - about how the Zygerrians would hurt the Togrutans to get at you.”

Obi-wan noticeably winced at that statement. 

“I - I appreciate your concern, Anakin, more than you know.” The Jedi Master sighed. “And if ever in the past I had underestimated the ramifications of your childhood, I apologize, deeply. I learned far more than I wanted to about such things during our mission.” 

Anakin’s heart fell - he had never heard Obi-wan sound so _defeated._

“I will not pretend that my time on Kadavo was pleasant by any means. But it’s - it’s over, Anakin. Even the small amount of proof we had - the data chip - was confiscated by the Chancellor’s office and no doubt destroyed.”

Anakin was about to rail against that turn of events when Obi-wan held up his hand.

“There is little we can do about the situation now. Please, Anakin - I implore you. Allow this to just be and let it all pass into the Force.” There was a tinge of desperation to the statement that disturbed the young Jedi. 

_Of course, Obi-wan. Release your feelings into the Force. Don’t deal with any of it._

His former Master made to leave but Anakin stopped him once more. "Wait."  He gave Obi-wan a look that communicated that they weren’t finished quite yet.

“The night we rescued you - there was a massive surge in the Force. Something dark, something _awful._ You were just - just sitting there with all of those bodies. Obi-wan, please, I want to help you.” the Force swirled around Anakin, a mix of fear, worry, and frustration.

Obi-wan froze, and then Anakin felt it. An infinitesimal crack in the durasteel armor that his former master had been wearing around his Force signature. It was a whirlwind of emotion - fear, anger, _guilt -_ all contained within a dark, icy enclosure. The strength of it nearly knocked Anakin off his feet. 

_/Master?/_ he sent through their bond, his anxiety rising as he received no response. _/Obi-wan?/_

In an instant it was shut down and he was cut off to Obi-wan’s Force presence yet again.

Anakin looked at Obi-wan as if he had never seen him before. 

“Obi-wan, I - “

The Jedi Master was as close to panic as Anakin had ever seen him, eyes wide and voice shaking. “I’m sorry, Anakin. I must - I must meditate.” Obi-wan pushed past his former student and walked down the hallway as fast as his injuries would allow, leaving a dumbstruck Anakin Skywalker in his wake. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh.
> 
> Chapter 17 preview: Obi-wan does not always have the best coping mechanisms. On top of that, he gets a rather nasty surprise from someone he'd rather not interact with. At all.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Obi-wan. You poor, poor man. Denial is not just a river in Egypt.

_“The night we rescued you - there was a massive surge in the Force. Something dark, something awful. You were just - just sitting there with all of those bodies. Obi-wan, please, I want to help you.”_

It had been enough to make his iron-clad control slip.

Of course it had happened with Anakin. It was bound to happen eventually. Keeping himself shielded to the degree that he was on a daily basis would have been exhausting for a Jedi in peak condition. 

And Obi-wan was not in peak condition at the moment. He was a mess of untended injuries and severe insomnia. He had been ill nearly every day since their escape from Zygerria - he didn’t even remember the last time his meager meals managed to stay down.

He silently thanked the Jedi Order for its fashion mandates - his robes covered the fact that he was rapidly losing weight. 

_I need to get away from the Temple._ He cursed his inability to keep himself in check in front of his former Padawan. But then again, Anakin always did have a way of pushing his buttons, of getting him to react, when few others did. _Congratulations, Anakin_ , he thought bitterly. His only relief was that he had been able to make it through the Council briefing without disaster. He shuddered to think of the line of questioning he would be subjected to if his little breakdown had happened then.

Obi-wan carefully stretched out his senses to see if Anakin had followed him, but it seemed like he had shocked his former Padawan into inaction. _Finally._ The ginger-haired Jedi pulled the hood of his robe over his head, using the Force to make himself as unremarkable as possible as he passed through the temple doors and into the busy streets of Coruscant. It wouldn’t do to be in the vicinity of so many Force-sensitives right now, of so many powerful Jedi like Mace or Yoda.

_Or Anakin._

No, he needed a place to go where he could safely lower his defenses for a few hours, where he did not feel like he was risking _exposure_. 

_Exposure of what, Kenobi?_

He shook his head as he wandered into the lower levels of the Republic capital. He had been wrangling with that very topic since Zygerria. 

There was nothing, really, to expose, right?

Yes, his emotions were closer to the surface, more volatile than they had been in years. And the Force had taken on a worrying frosty edge at moments. But considering the mission he had just returned from - his enslavement, the treatment of the colonists, the deaths of -

_No._ He clamped down on those thoughts.

Mace would want him to see a mind healer. Anakin would try to pry every last bit of information out of him. But Obi-wan just wanted to forget. To release everything into the Force and then pretend like it had never happened.

_But to release it all into the Force, Kenobi, you have to lower your shields first._

Which was how he found himself sitting in the back booth of a run-down cantina named the _Luxlight_ , near the lower levels of Coruscant. 

It was neither luxurious nor well-lit.

The clientele was the usual scum and villainy one would expect from such an establishment. Bounty hunters, small-time criminals, and the like all descended upon the inglorious watering hole to drink alone and anonymously. It was a place where few questions were asked. Obi-wan made sure his robe completely covered his Jedi tunics before taking a seat in the dimmest, most isolated booth he could find.

_ What a wonderful setting. Perhaps I'll stay for an extended period. It's certainly possible I'll never be able to extricate myself from this booth with the abundance of this mysterious viscid substance that seems to be lining my seat. _

He sighed deeply as a Weequay waitress brought him his drink.

Obi-wan considered the liquid in front of him, taking the tumbler in his hand. _Ah, well - might as well do as the locals do_ , he thought wryly.He threw back his drink with a single swallow, placing his now empty glass on the table with a bit more violence than he had intended.

_And isn’t that just the problem you’re having right now - a bit more violence than intended?_

He pulled his hood further down over his head and allowed his shields to finally relax. Almost immediately he was hit with a wild surge of emotions. Obi-wan had to fight the impulse to bolt out of the cantina.

Flashes of the mission flew through his mind. The dais at the slave auction. His introduction to the processing center, when those unfortunate colonists had fallen to their death. Arguss, sneering at him. The dead Togrutan youngling. The Queen, suspended in mid-air, gasping for breath, clawing at her throat. A fist closing, the sickening sound of bones breaking as the monarch’s head lolled to the side. Himself, on his knees in front of Dooku, the older man smiling down at him -

“Another round?” 

_What?_

“I said, do’ya wanna another round?” The waitress motioned to his empty glass, her voice disinterested.

“Um, yes. Please.” Obi-wan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, as she turned towards the bar. 

_Force, Kenobi, you need to get a grip._

He focused on trying to regulate his breathing - _in, out, in, out_. Little by little, the crashing waves in the Force began to abate, slowly transforming into the flowing current that he was more accustomed to. Still, it didn’t feel entirely _right._ There was something in the river of the Force, something cold and dark. Obi-wan rubbed his forehead with his hand. 

“Here you go.”

He didn’t even acknowledge the waitress’s presence. 

_Rude, Kenobi_ , he admonished himself. But he didn’t have the energy to care.

He took a sip of his drink, this time savoring the taste and feel of the alcohol on his tongue. The entire Zygerrian experience - what had happened? 

According to the Council, it was a rousing success. They had freed the colonists and avoided any damaging political fallout. As far as the Jedi were concerned, there was nothing more to do. There was a war going on, and they needed to direct their energies towards that. 

_We are heading down a dangerous path if we cannot stand up to planets like Zygerria. Our inaction silently condones their actions._ If he hadn’t procured that data chip - he wasn’t sure what would have happened. _Would we really have allowed the colonists to suffer for the sake of political convenience?_

He dearly hoped not. It was not the first time Obi-wan had come to question the collective wisdom of the Council that he sat on. He had held his tongue on many occasions - he was young, and he greatly respected the older members, many of whom had once instructed him in his Initiate days. But lately he had been finding himself disagreeing with them more and more.

_I wonder what Qui-gon would have done in this situation?_

Obi-wan took another sip of his drink, not wanting to take his thoughts down _that_ path. _We’re supposed to be peacekeepers, but all I’ve seen follow me is death and destruction. Are we so blind to our own faults?_ He had read the reports on the Krell incident. He had witnessed firsthand the toll the war was taking on neutral worlds - the suffering due to trade embargoes, the civil unrest. The Senate was bloated and ineffective, most of its members caring more about their reputation than actual political action. And there was nothing, supposedly, the Jedi could do about it. They were answering more and more to the Republic as the war dragged on, losing their independence, their identity as a force of _good_ each day.

It felt as if they were unraveling from the inside, like a ball of twine, holding its form but losing its center. 

_Or maybe that’s just me._

He thought back again to the Zygerrian palace. The Togrutan governor - dead. The youngling - dead. All because he, like the Jedi, _didn’t act._

He shuddered, anger creeping back into his mind. 

_This is not the Jedi way, Kenobi_. 

Peace, calm, release. 

He finished his drink, slamming the glass down.

~ _You saved the second child, didn’t you?~_

He groaned audibly. It was the question that had been haunting him since their escape.

It was so easy to believe that Dooku did it, to convince himself that - for some reason - the Sith chose that exact moment to eliminate the Queen. He had spent hours contorting his logic to fit that idea. Perhaps he heard something on the palace grounds, perhaps he felt something in the Force, perhaps even _he_ felt it beneath him to watch another innocent slaughtered.

Obi-wan scoffed at himself entertaining such a ridiculous idea. _I highly doubt *that* was the case._

But what was the alternative?

“... _there was a massive surge in the Force. Something dark, something awful.”_

The visions of the Queen, suspended in the air, gasping for breath.

Dooku’s sick praise. _“Well done, Master Kenobi.”_

The icy-dark in the Force that now seemed to be a constant companion.

_I...I couldn’t have. I am a Jedi. Aligned with the Light._

But part of him knew he was lying to himself. 

_Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny._

Obi-wan buried his head in his hands, guilt overwhelming him.

His first instinct was to march into the Jedi Council chambers tomorrow, confess everything to Masters Yoda and Windu, and accept his punishment, even if that meant his expulsion from the Jedi Order.

_But then who would keep a watch on Anakin?_

Despite the fact that Anakin wasn’t his student anymore, Obi-wan still felt responsible for his friend. Anakin was rash, impulsive, prone to anger, and immensely powerful. He was almost constantly in conflict with the Jedi Council, despite his great many achievements. Anakin didn’t know it, but Obi-wan had interfered on his behalf to the Council on countless occasions, making argument after argument why his former Padawan’s unorthodox methods should be accepted (“You cannot deny they have worked, Master Mundi.”). Or why he shouldn’t be put on probation (“If you could outline to me what exactly Knight Skywalker has done wrong, Master Windu, it would be appreciated. You seem to tolerate Quinlan Vos’s...eccentricities well enough.”). Or why he shouldn’t have someone monitor him to ensure his compliance to the Jedi Code. He had argued most vehemently against that, despite knowing Anakin was most likely breaking the Code on a regular basis at a certain Senator’s apartment.(“I assure you, Masters, I interact with Anakin on a near-daily basis and while he remains perhaps prone to temper and attachment, he is as committed to the Jedi as the rest of us.”) 

_Who was the one with the attachment problem?_

No. He couldn’t confess to something he wasn’t even sure happened. Not yet. Obi-wan clung to the idea that somehow Dooku had tricked him, had taken advantage of his unbalanced mental state. The alternative was something he was not ready to accept.

He needed to stay together long enough to see the end of this war, to make sure Anakin, and by extension Ahsoka and Padmé, remained safe, to ensure that Anakin wasn’t driven away from the Jedi, the Light, by his conflicts with the Jedi Council.  _And I can’t fail Qui-gon again. Not in this._

Once Obi-wan felt secure in their safety, he would accept whatever judgement the Council brought upon him, however much he deserved it or not.

_Now I just need to find a better way to shield myself._ His current method of burying himself in the Force was not going to work. Beyond exhausting his energies, it was far too obvious when he was hiding himself - his presence right now was a void and he knew that Anakin would not allow that to continue without question.

The emotions, he hoped, would level-off over time. The frigid darkness of the Force that ate at the edges of his mind, however - that was something else entirely. He needed to find a way to sublimate that, to bury it with the other moments in his life that he had not entirely been able to release into the Force. Like Bandomeer. Like when Qui-gon had cast him aside for Anakin. Like when he parted from Satine. Like Naboo.

The icy-dark shone in his mind, inviting him to feel _more_ , think more about the past. _Some Jedi I am,_ he thought morosely. _“Perfect Jedi” Obi-wan Kenobi - the man who still broods about his failures as a thirteen-year-old._ It was embarrassing, quite frankly, but more than that, it was one of the reasons he strove so hard to adhere to every aspect of the Code, to hone, and eventually perfect all his skills. He was a deeply flawed man saddled with great responsibilities, and he felt his skills inadequate to the task at hand. The only way to overcome his massive shortcomings was to strive for perfection.

_Yes, well. So much for that._

His mind wandered to Count Dooku, remembering the absolute control the older ex-Jedi seemed to have, even as a Sith. Certainly there was _some_ way to build his shielding so he could continue to function as a Jedi.

_I am really looking to Dooku as a role model?_

Obi-wan picked up his now empty glass, peering into the bottom. 

_Maybe I have had too much to drink._

At that moment, his commlink went off. 

_Who in the galaxy...?_

“Kenobi here,” he answered, trying summon all of his concentration.

“Master Kenobi.” A familiar, civilized voice greeted him. 

_Impossible._

Obi-wan swallowed. “Dare I ask how you managed to reach my supposedly secure and encrypted commlink?”

The voice on the other end laughed. “You may ask, Master Kenobi, but that is one secret I am not imparting to you on this particular evening.”

Obi-wan felt his irritation rising quickly to the surface. “What is it you want, Dooku? I thought you'd be busy trying to enslave more planets since your last gambit failed so spectacularly.”

“Temper, Master Kenobi,” the man chided. “Or have you fallen so far already?”

The young Jedi Master grit his teeth. “ _I haven’t fallen at all._ Now, if you excuse me, I have a glass of Corellian brandy waiting for me, which I am sure even you can appreciate. Good night, Count.” 

“Having problems shielding, my young friend?”

Obi-wan stopped himself from ending the transmission. “I don’t see what business that is of yours.” _Why am I talking with this man, I should be tracing the signal and alerting the High Council!_

“Perhaps it is none of my business. I will not take up your _precious_ time, Master Kenobi, as I am sure you are eager to return to your obviously successful meditation methods.” Obi-wan grimaced at that. “I am sending you the information of a book that sits in the Jedi Archives. As you are a Council member, you should have little problem retrieving this volume. You might find the information of use to you in your current predicament.”

Kenobi glanced at the data number that was transmitted. “This is highly classified material, Dooku.” _Why am I arguing with this man about the library?_

“I would think that would pose few problems, considering your reputation as the Negotiator.” Obi-wan had to keep himself from rolling his eyes. 

“And why would you be having a sudden attack of generosity, Dooku?”

“Consider it,” the Count’s voice took on a light tone of amusement, “a token of my appreciation for a job well done.”

Obi-wan’s face turned an ashy white.

“Do not underestimate yourself, Master Kenobi.” And with that, the Count ended the transmission. 

The Jedi Master stared at the comm on his forearm in disbelief.

_Dooku is trying to play mind games with me. Trick me into thinking that I - I did something on Zygerria. He knows I’m vulnerable - he witnessed that much not more than a week ago._

He slammed his fist on the table, sending his empty glass sailing onto the floor, where it shattered. The cantina patrons paid him no mind.

_Damn him and his manipulations!_

What Obi-wan needed to do right now was purge the alcohol from his system, take his comm directly to the temple, and set a trace on the signal. He figured he had upwards of fifteen minutes before the data became unusable. 

_Right, just get up and go to the temple. In fact, let me contact Master Windu right now._

He didn’t move. 

_I should erase this data number._

His thumb hovered over the ‘delete’ button. _Just erase it, Kenobi, and call the Temple._

He did neither.

Instead, Obi-wan found himself downloading the data number and erasing all evidence of his conversation with Dooku from his device. _If I play along with this obvious ruse, perhaps I can learn a bit more about Dooku’s plans. Maybe even find out more information about this supposed Sith lord who lies at the center of the Republic._

He wasn't _quite_ comfortable with his reasoning, but a part of the Force wrapped lovingly around him, whispering in his ear that ~ _yes, this is right, this is my will.~_  And who was he to argue with the will of the Force? For the first time in weeks Obi-wan felt himself relax. He ordered another drink, and welcomed the numbing affects of alcohol on his worn-out psyche.

~

Count Dooku paused the holo-video in front of him, taking in the cold fury of the man’s eyes, his arms outstretched.

It was truly a work of art. 

The Zygerrians may have been troublesome, but this little diversion had already paid dividends far exceeding his original investment. He took the data chip out of the playback device, and placed it in a secure, locked drawer.

Dooku congratulated himself on his own stroke of genius. Before departing Zygerria, he had stopped by the security room, which was unguarded due to the so-called civil war erupting on the planet. 

It took him little time to transfer the data he needed.

Dooku had briefly considered playing his hand now, but the Force had held him back. _No, it was too early, the man was not yet ripe._ He was only beginning to question, beginning to weave the web of denial and lies that he would eventually trap himself in.

When that time came - when he was faced with incontrovertible evidence...

And if that knowledge somehow fell into the hands of some nosy Holonet reporter?

_Well,_ Dooku wore a malevolent smile, _where would you run to then?_

The Count poured himself a dram of Corellian brandy, as a salute to the man. _Another point in his favor - he has fine taste._ He savored the liquid as he watched the snow begin to fall over the mountainous terrain of Serenno. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, Dooku! You *didn't*!
> 
> He did.
> 
> ~
> 
> So, a few author's end notes.
> 
> First off - you guys, THANK YOU for all of your comments and kudos and general reading of my story. It has been *years* since I've had the opportunity to delve into fiction writing and this journey has been...just so fun. (And a very therapeutic escape from the dreaded *real life* full of illogical parking regulations and overpriced, watered-down coffee.)
> 
> Secondly - my plans for this. I obviously cannot just leave Obi-wan to consider his fate here. Mostly because Dooku would have my hide - he's so looking forward to getting what he's wanted for so long.
> 
> The next story (or two, or...whatever) will weave into the following arcs: Rako Hardeen, Maul, Ahsoka leaves the Order, Sifo-Diyas/Order 66. We will get further and further from canon with each iteration. I have the overall outline of events mapped out, now it's just a matter of filling in the details. There will be much more Dooku/Obi-wan interaction as I find their relationship to be fascinating. Obi-wan...well, let's just say he's probably not in for a good time. Anakin might show some surprising resolve. Ahsoka is going to figure things out before anyone else. But there will be a break in the action as I plot my course.
> 
> Thirdly - I might take a small time-out from corrupting Obi-wan to corrupt Obi-wan in a different way. I have a very strange idea to do a retelling of Hunter Thompson's "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" with Hondo and Obi-wan (and maybe Anakin as well). I'm not sure if this will actually happen, but it's something I've had on the back-burner for a bit. We will see if the muse visits for this one or not.
> 
> Thank you all!


End file.
